


Where the Wild Things Are

by Brooklyn_Knight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Slow Burn, derek's an asshole but like in his usual way, mccall sister, otp: i trust you, strangers to friends to enemies to lovers to soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 05:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brooklyn_Knight/pseuds/Brooklyn_Knight
Summary: Life's not easy for Reagan and Derek, especially when they try and deny the one thing they both know to be true: they belong together. All things worth while are hard to get... especially the wild things.





	1. Prologue ※ (Hunted)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Black Dahlia comes to Beacon Hills...

_"There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen..."_

_...Beacon Hills is not that place._

* * *

**Where the Wild Things Are...**

**Prologue**

**(Hunted)**

* * *

Beacon Hills, California. A growing, quiet metropolis, surrounded by woods far older than any of its inhabitants. A faint breeze rustled the crisp autumn leaves, the slightest of motion plucking them from their branches and blowing them to the ground.

At first sight, the preserve may seem peaceful, welcoming even, as it wraps itself around most of the county and threads itself in between city and suburbs alike. Yet on this night, the dark brush was anything but comforting. On this night, it held nothing but fear and dread.

Another oak leaf fell to the forest floor, resting among the dirt and moss for but a moment before being crushed by a thick black boot. It was only one of hundreds more that crunched and cracked under the line of sheriff deputies.

Rows of bright flashlights lite the ground while the sound of faded sirens and barking dogs littered the air. Orders were shouted left and right as wall after wall of officers were split apart and ordered in different directions. The silence of the woods had soon erupted into organized chaos as the search party began.

Noah Stilinski did not have the luxury of enjoying the woods the way the rest of his townsfolk did. Now in his third term as Sheriff, he found himself more stressed in these tranquil woods than he had ever been in all his years as an officer or widowed father.

"Make sure those dogs are tightly leashed, we can't lose one of 'em!" He shouted the K9 handlers. The three dogs each tried to pick up the scent of human remains, each seeming to lead their handler in different directions in a way that hinted at nothing but disappointment to come.

"Sheriff, some of the boys are wondering if we should issue a curfew? On the off-chance…" He didn't finish.

The Sheriff looked over his shoulder, eying the spots of light that made up the suburbs slowly fading to sleep below. "I'm not gonna cause a panic just because some mountain lion caught a poor girl after dark."

"We sure it's a mountain lion?" The deputy kicked his foot nervously. Stilinski gave him a stern look. The deputy would hint at, yet not speak, the fear the department had. A girl had been torn in half, a bit to evenly for the officers comfort. Mere Hours after being found, rumors already began to swarm through the station.

Stilinski pulled the hunting rifle from the trunk of the car, his usual weapon already holstered by his side. "It's Beacon Hills, Deputy," He slammed the car trunk closed. "-not the Black Dahlia."

The young officer swallowed thickly looking away ashamed only to let his heart skip a beat at the sight of the foreboding woods that lay ahead. Seeing the expression, Noah let his shoulders sink, heaving a heavy sigh. He didn't want his own stress about finding the body giving merit to these absurd rumors. "Look, son,-" He began fondly. "Beacon Hills has plenty of crime. Robberies, assaults, drugs, domestics and even the rare case of arson once in a blue moon." The Sheriff stepped closer, lowering his voice and staring the deputy in the eye, desperate to get his point across. "But _serial killers_ ain't one of 'em."

The deputy jumped as Stilinski cocked the spring action rifle resting between them. The tranquilizers inside more than enough to handle any wild animal they came across. "It was a mountain lion." He said firmly. "There will be _no_ curfew, there will be no _panic_. As long as people stay out of the woods at night,-" Stilinski nodded his head at the large sign under the preserve entrance ordering just that. "-there is no reason to think this is anything more than a tragic _accident_."

The deputy nodded, if reluctantly, in agreement.

Stilinski looked once more at the lights of the suburbs below them, a small part of him hoping beyond hope that his own words would be proven true.

* * *

Situated in the higher end of the middle-class, the house at the end of Oakridge Avenue wasn't much different from the rest of the suburban replicas. The spacious two-story home was a faded subtle green with white trim, just as quaint and well taken care of as the other houses on its street. The grass was freshly mowed, the bushes surrounding the home well trimmed, and the wrap around porch often swept clean.

While the rest of the house was dark in the oncoming midnight hour, the two upper bedrooms remained alight.

A figured watched patiently from across the street, hidden by the overgrown elm and the cover of darkness. Focused blue eyes watched the distorted figure move back around the eastern bedroom, the female silhouette clear even through the beige curtains.

Reagan McCall crossed her bedroom for the tenth time in as many minutes, desperately searching high and low in a double and triple check of where she could have possibly misplaced her school ID.

Brushing her dark blonde hair behind her ears, she tightened her grip and pulled in exasperation. Her cheeks puffed out before trying to release a forced calming breath. With a new suspicion, she narrowed her eyes and turned to her bed, pointing accusingly with gritted teeth.

"What did you do with it?"

As if startled by the accusation, the small kitten let out a squeaky meow, stumbling to the edge of the bed to argue.

"Where's your brother? I'm sure he had something to do with this." Reagan talked to herself, looking around for any sign of the larger, older, cat. Always one to be prepared Reagan felt her stomach stretched into an anxious knot the longer it took to find the ID she so desperately needed for the early morning. With her options running thin, she sat at the desk beside her bay window and opened her laptop.

For a few moments, all was quiet sans the clicks of the keyboard as Reagan messaged a few of her friends in the hopes she'd left it in their car at some point this weekend. Waiting for a reply, she stopped her Instagram scrolling when a feeling began pricking at her neck. Reagan raised her gaze, staring at herself in the mirror, trying to place the feeling that steadily began to sharpen. Her lips pursed in a confused pout, her brows furrowing in confusion as she looked to the window beside her. The curtains swayed under the force of a small breeze.

A moment of hesitation, before the pinprick seemed to burn into her very being. Reagan pushed the curtain aside, peeking into the dark and apparently empty street. As it had been for years, the streetlight across the street flickered with little success, the solar panels that powered it too covered in the overgrown elm tree to ever have a chance to work at night. Yet, in the flicker, her eyes caught a figure of something, a shadow or a movement or a trick of the eye that made something about the trunk of that tree seem thicker than it normally was.

Blue eyes straining against the sporadic flickering, she opened her curtain fully, sliding her hands through the cracked window and opening it completely.

Her entire upper body leaned out of the window, palms resting on the porch roof below her. "Stiles?" She almost whispered, not willing to admit a slight incline of fear was beginning to take hold as she could have sworn the figured moved. It wasn't uncommon for him to climb the porch roof to enter the house at odd hours now and again. For a second, Reagan held her breath, only for a headlight of a passing car to reveal the overgrown tree trunk to be just that: a tree. Reagan closed her eyes, hating herself for falling into a moment of superstition just because Stiles had made them watch the Halloween movies the night before. There was no Michael Myers hiding outside her home.

Giving one last look down each side of the street, she seemed to miss a small figure leap passed her.

What felt like a hand rested itself on her arched back, and with a start, Reagan straighten herself. The soft back of her head met the hard wooden window panel. Reagan grit her teeth, clutching the throbbing bump as she turned on her cat. " _Thief!_ " She hissed, stomping to make the Bengal cat rush to the bed.

There in Max's mouth hung the lanyard with Reagan's ID. Ripping the impromptu plaything away, she turned and shut her window, putting forth the effort to make sure it was locked this time around.

Max protested the punishment, letting out a loud "Mawh". As he tried to bat at the plastic card attached. Tisking him way, she picked the large Bengal up and placed a kiss between its raised ears. While it was the kitten they had named 'Mischief', it lately appeared Max had been quite the little rascal himself. Disappearing for a day or two at a time and finding his way outside one way or another.

At the reminder, she checked the windows once more, opening and closing each one to check the sturdiness as she spied the still empty street once more. It was upon closing the third of the bay windows, her spine chilled at another sound. A small thud from her window was muffled by a much louder thud outside her bedroom door, the two felines on her bed jumping to attention at the noise. Two shadows of feet seeming to stand there in the crack of door bottom.

"Scott?" She called, a bit concerned. She received no answer. Assuming the worst of a possible asthma attack, Reagan leaped from the nook and rushed to the door. "Sco-." Reagan ducked at the last second, the name turning to a small scream in her throat as the metal bat primed to swing just barely stopped before her face. " _Gah!_ " She blanched, holding up her hands in annoyed defense, the outstretched palms curling into fists as the moment of surprise passed. "What _the fuck_?!" Her voice raised a full octave, staring at her brother like he was insane.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared at her brother standing between their rooms, looking ready to strike at anything that moved. "Why do you have mom's bat?" She hissed in annoyance. Her hands reached to take it from him. Clearly, he had been much more affected by that movie than she had been. His brown eyes alight, equally surprised by the near accident. Still, he held the bat tighter, moving it out of her grasp.

" _Shh!_ " He winced making her gawk. "I think there's a predator outside." He whispered back, glancing nervously at the window at the end of the hall.

"A pred-" She rolled her eyes at his dramatics knowing it was probably one of the stray cats in the neighborhood that'd chased Max home. "Really, Scott?"

"I'm just gonna check it out." He whispered still, as if not wanting to alert it to his plan. Slowly he crept down the stairs.

Reagan turned back, ready to let Scott have his little protector moment when she found herself staring at the curtains of her window. Maybe just a little look around outside wouldn't be too bad. "Scott, hold on!" She whispered back, falling into the same dramatic trap as he. "Damn it, Scotty!" She cursed as she started down the stairs.

Boyish screams echoed from outside the house. Putting here years of track practice to use, Reagan took two steps at a time, vaulting over the couch, her socked feet slipping and sliding as she ran through the porch and hooked her arm in the doorframe, stopping herself just short of running into her brother. "What?!" She shouted.

Mangled, lanky, and awful a sight as it was, the boy hanging upside down from their roof was no threat. Reagan rested against the rich mahogany door frame, rolling her eyes at the melodramatics of it all as she willed her heart to settle.

"What the hell, Stiles!" She breathed.

Stiles Stilinski's pale face was flushed with fear and exertion as he hung upside down from their porch roof. Their oldest and dearest friend, the son of the Sheriff was a normal sight, upright or not, around the McCall household.

Stiles gestured wildly to the siblings, still lightly swaying. "He wasn't answering his phone and you were online but wouldn't respond so..." He rationalized in his special logic before changing the topic. "Why do you have a bat?" He refocused his attention on the object of his near-beheading.

"I thought you were a predator." Scott defended.

"A pred-" Stiles scoffed at the idea, sharing Reagan's opinion on the ridiculousness of it. It was Beacon Hills for Christ-sake.

"Why were you being so creepy earlier?" She was swiftly ignored, a glance barely spared by her younger brother.

"Look I know it's late but you gotta hear this: I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon department and even state police." Stiles excitement was only fueled by the adrenaline pumping through his veins and blood pooling in his head.

"What's holding you up?" Reagan's brow furrowed, ignoring him to lean out and try to peer at whatever he was snagged on that was keeping him from breaking his neck.

"For what?" Scott asked at the same time. Once more, Reagan was promptly ignored as Stiles was indulged.

"Two joggers found a body in the woods." Stiles flipped himself up and down, landing in the flowerbed with more grace than he'd ever shown running on two legs.

"A _dead_ body?!" Reagan's attention was finally taken away from the roof, her neck giving an audible crack with the force she turned her head.

"No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body!" The paler boy winced when his hand was slapped before helping himself over the railing.

"You mean like _murdered_?"

"Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl probably in her twenties."

"If they found the body what are they looking for?" The woods that surrounded and trickled into the city were miles wide, and not made of skinny little sticks either. Surely they weren't looking for evidence that was probably already covered in the season's leaves.

"That's the best part. _They only found half_." Stiles bit his lip to contain his grin, his voice trailing off in excited laughter. Clearly, he'd overdone his Adderall again.

"Tone down the smile there, Bundy." Reagan chided.

"Sorry. But you know what this means, right?!" At their blank faces, he smiled, "We're going!"

"No. We're not."

 ** _"Scott!"_** Both teens looked at the boy expectantly, waiting for him to pick a side. ** _  
_**

Said boy looked back and forth between the two before giving a groan.

"You know he's just going to do it even if I don't." He tried to plead with his sister. Reagan narrowed her eyes at him as she saw Stiles pump his fist in victory. The boy held their breath, anxiously awaiting what Reagan would do. And by that, let them do. Reagan sighed through her nose, extending her hand expectantly.

"I'm driving."

* * *

**※ Lie (Instrumental) by Halsey ※**


	2. 1.01 ※ Bitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where out trio learns not to go skulking around in the woods.

_"There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen..."_

_...Beacon Hills is not that place._

* * *

 

**Where the Wild Things Are...**

**Chapter 1:**

**Bitten  
**

* * *

The warm interior of the jeep was far cozier than the woods that surrounded it. And yet, even with the sweatshirt she bundled under and the heater on blast, a chill found its way inside Reagan's bones the longer she was forced to sit there and do nothing. Her flimsy pajama shorts and knee socks were nowhere close to being proper hiking apparel, and as such she's been left in charge of the jeep while its owner and her brother went trekking through the woods.

Her tired head lulled to the side, sparing the dashboard clock a longing look. Twenty minutes passed one in the morning. The blinking numbers mocked her, ticking away mercilessly as she was forced to wait for the idiots.

About to send yet another text threatening to leave if they didn't respond to her demands of updates, an incoming text flashed the top of her screen. Her lips thinned into a tight frown and her heart dropped to her chest.

Lana, a fellow member of the track team, had brought up the one topic she's been trying to avoid all summer. Danny Māhealani.

Reagan rubbed a tired hand over her face. At the mere mention of the yearly back to school party he hosted, she felt her stress over tomorrow rise ten-fold.

What she wouldn't do just to postpone running into him one more day. Alas, she'd be damned if people thought she was some frail little flower that crumbled at the sight of him. Giving a noncommittal reply as to whether she'd be attending or willing to loan a dress, she tossed her phone on the dashboard and buried her eyes in her hand. Suddenly the woods were forgotten as she muffled her own frustrated screams in the thick fabric of her sleeve covered hands.

So her first boyfriend and first love of her life turned out to be gay. No big deal.

But ever since Danny came out to everyone that he was gay people either bombarded her with questions or walked on eggshells around it. Having been avoiding both him and the topic all summer, Reagan felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to catch the first glance of him.

It still hurt sometimes. When someone would ask or talk about it. She didn't feel used, no, Danny wouldn't do that. He loved her genuinely, but just not the way he should have. Not in the way she loved him. Not in the way that first loves should love each other. The only thing that kept her from locking herself in the house and wallowing over the loss of a first love was that Danny had to deal with something much worse. Coming out.

After losing their virginity to one another, he became distant. She chalked it up to nerves and tried to make the next time better. Next time would be the last time as she stared at him embarrassed, realizing she hadn't been able to give him the same satisfaction she had received. She blushed, covering her maybe not flat enough stomach, or not big enough breasts, telling him they'd get better with practice, trying to make into a joke. But she wasn't ready for the laugh. He just laughed a small chuckle that turned into a small sob as he confessed he was gay. That no matter what she did, no matter what they tried, it wouldn't work because he just didn't and couldn't love her that way. No matter how hard he or she tried.

They sat in silence on his bed for what felt like hours, Reagan wiping her tears on the sheet while Danny mumbled and pleaded for her forgiveness as she moved on auto-pilot. Getting dressed, finding her keys, and finally leaving. For the next week, she stayed silent. Her mother and brother growing concerned when she had a hard time eating, and seemed to be sniffling when they weren't looking. The stress of upcoming finals, they chalked it up to. Reagan had always been so school focused. It wasn't until she began taking down the pictures and movie tickets, and little random trinkets of their time together that she had once held so dear, the two other McCalls grew worried. It wouldn't be until another week, before summer, that Danny would admit it to his parents and his friends until finally, it reached back to the McCall home.

The night her mother confronted her about it, she let her hold her like a baby as she balled like one. She was never the girl to believe in sappy romance novels. She believed her first love would be her only love but something about the ease of being with Danny had made her wholeheartedly think that they would have a happily ever after. The freshman year notebooks filled with little hearts and notes between them were a testament to that fact. Yet she was dead wrong, and that crushed the naïve teenager. In her moments of teenage heartbreak, Scott had run to the convenience store on his bike and spent half of his first paycheck on her favorite candy and renting her favorite movies. She spent that weekend with Stiles and Scott watching everything and anything in the house till the shock of the news had worked its way through the students.

She supposed that was the true tragedy of heartbreak. In the moment it feels like the end of the world. To everyone else, it's just a rainy damper on a nice day.

But now summer was over. There would be no more mourning, no more weeping, and sure as hell no pathetic text drafts to ask Danny if he "was sure?". The guy he had begun happily dating a few weeks ago made certain of that. She was no longer that lovesick little girl. It was time to woman up and focus on more important things...like where the hell those idiots she loved most were.

Pulling up Scott's contact her thumb hovered over the phone icon as a small shiver ran up her spine. Trying not to overreact she peered out into the darkened woods, the moon doing little for lighting with the thick trees and brush. Her heart rate picked up just a bit, and she quickly locked the doors to Stiles jeep before pressing the button. Her worry now worse.

"Scott" Reagan sighed when the phone was answered. "It's been long enough. We have school tomorrow." Her eyes darting to and fro trunks and brush as they swayed and moved with the wind. At least it should be wind. The phone connection crackled and hissed. "Seriously, Scott. It's time to go. I'm really freaking out. I think there may be someone here." She clutched the keys a bit tighter as she leaned forward, once more trying to inspect the shapes on the other side of the car. The thought she might need glasses crossing her mind as she swore she saw a blur of movement between the trees.

_Tap-tap-tap_

An embarrassing hiccup of a scream forced its way past her lips as she quickly turned back towards the window. Smiling in equal parts bashfully as guiltily, she rolled down the window.

"I remember very distinctly, the selling point of giving Stiles this jeep was that he wouldn't have to drag you two into things like this." Sheriff Stilinski appeared worn out as he peered in at her. His blue eyes had a few extra lines as a by-product of his troubled job and even more troublesome son. "Where's the second monkey?" He questioned, going as far as to shine the flashlight in at her and the rest of the empty jeep.

"If he's smart, nowhere I'll ever find him." She glared at the woods half blinded by the flashlight. The other jeep door was roughly pulled open, Stiles protesting the rough treatment as he was all but pushed into the seat before the door loudly slammed on him.

"This is borderline brutality." He whined.

"I'll show you brutality." Stilinski threatened. "What the hell did you think you were gonna accomplish here, anyway?"

"Help you find the body if not the kil-"

Sheriff rolled his eyes, not willing to let his son finish. "It was a cougar!" He nearly shouted at them, at his wits end with this absurd rumor.

"Ye-yeah," Stiles stuttered. "That's why I brought cat-girl." He pointed to Reagan. "I mean… Cougars are just, like, big, big cats...right?" He tried, looking and back and forth between their faces for any sign of belief. Neither Reagan nor the Sheriff appeared amused.

Per usual, the Sheriff saw his son was a lost cause, so directed his order to the one with common sense. "Go. HOME. Reagan." He glowered at his son. "and take the degenerate with you."

"Sure thing, Sheriff." She forced a smile, her cheeks hurting from the strain of her gritted teeth. It wasn't until the officers had left that she flung her arm out, smacking Stiles dead in the chest while he hunched to cover his precious boyhood. "Cat-girl?" She seethed, hating the images of spinsterhood and crazy old women it put in her head.

"I deserved that." He admitted weakly, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out. Buckling up he began brushing the leaves and spider webs from his jeans and shoes, oblivious to the hard stare he was receiving until he came face to face with her pointed dagger gaze.

"Y-uh?" He slightly cowered "Sorry?" He seemed confused as to what she was waiting for.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?" He eased up, oblivious to forming storm beside him.

"Where's Scott?" She asked simply.

Stiles froze once more, his mouth dropping open and a hesitant "Uhhh…" stretching out as he tried to buy himself time.

* * *

It wasn't until closer to three in the morning Scott McCall stumbled through the front door. His hand pressed against the sharp pain in his side in an effort to stop the constant throbbing that came from the injury. Scott turned on the hall light, his scrunched face easing into a guilty awe at the sight of his sister asleep on the bottom step. Her head and shoulder leaned against the wall for support, her cellphone held limply in hand. She'd waited up for him, worried and ready to call the police, or worse, their mother.

Gently shaking her awake he smiled apologetically at her sleepy mumbles of scolding, helping her to her room to avoid her tripping over her uncoordinated feet. His grip tightened, as he looked at the old creaking steps. A sudden dose of fear rushing through him at the thought the damage these steps had done to her once before, and what worse they could do still.

He still got goosebumps whenever he remembers the cold teal room she laid in for too long. A freak accident it may have been but he'd never get over the fact his father could have stopped it.

Exhausted himself, he frustratedly rubbed his eyes as he headed towards his own room across the hall. He still had to clean out the wounds before they got infected. Entering the hallway his brows furrowed as he witnessed Reagan's two cats, Max and Mischief, curl into the corner to growl and hiss at him, lashing out once before taking the opportunity to dart into her room and under her bed.

It was only these grumbles and hisses that made Reagan stir, her blue eyes weakly opening to witness her brother shut her door before falling back to sleep, resting easier with the knowledge he was safe. If only for a few hours or so.

* * *

The gentle kneading of her lower back roused Reagan from the sweet darkness of sleep. For a few blissful minutes, Reagan believed the previous night's misadventures to be that of a strange stress-induced dream. Stretching her arms high over her head her bleary eyes turned towards the cats scratching at the door, a sudden jolt sending her to her feet and the hazy memory of being tucked in last night. The felines gave a startled yowl as they leaped away from her, off to do their own morning routine as Reagan's drowsy body collided harshly with the door across the hall.

The door suddenly flying open made Scott jump from his place in front of his bathroom sink. He gagged in surprise, the toothbrush in hand accidentally pushed towards the back of his throat.

"Where the hell were you?!" She hissed, her hushed voice not hiding the anger she felt at being left to worry all night. Certain their mother was home by now, Reagan closed the door behind her before any further conversation could be overheard. Scott spit into the sink, she rested her hip against, her folded arms and narrowed gaze a prized imitation of their mother. Scott always found that funny, that they could be so alike.

"I know, I'm sorry!" He set his toothbrush, wiping his mouth. He turned towards her, his dark eyes mimicking that of an injured puppy. He stuttered at first before he was able to list all the things that had gone wrong last night. "I found the body, my phone got dropped in a puddle, I lost my inhaler and something bit me!" He finished with a pained whine. Definitely a kicked puppy.

"Bit you?!" Reagan eyed him, dubious of the claim. His tone suggested more than a little knick from a mosquito or rare tick.

"Yeah! And then when I got out of the woods I-" Scott stopped mid-sentence. His elder sister had always been left in charge of him, always looking out for him. She stared at him with a look of concern softening her pinched features. "I had to walk back to the house, so that took awhile." There was no need to give his sister a panic attack, or worse, reason to hit him, so he skimmed over the part where he nearly got hit by a car. Never the best liar, the simple omission of the truth made him shift his weight from one foot to the other under her unwavering gaze.

"What do you mean something bit you?" She moved from the doorway to give him room to exit following him into the bedroom before taking a seat on his messy bed.

"I think I got bit by a wolf." He held no hint of irony, already having made up his mind when he bandaged the bite last night. Raising his shit, he showed her the clean bandage he'd put on last night, now spotted with blood from the deeper puncture wounds. The wrap would make their mother proud.

Concerning as it was, she couldn't help but smile gently, trying not to laugh. Like Stiles, his imagination often got the better of him. "I don't think California has wolves." _Certainly none that big_ , she thought, eyeing the size of the wound suspiciously. She gently touched the bandage, brows furrowing at the rather canine appearance to the bloody echo seeping through. "Are you sure you didn't just fall on a rock or bark?" She asked as he pulled his shirt down. Despite the size, it seemed to give him only mild discomfort. "If it was bloody you might have just-"

"And summertime countdown begins!" Their mother's voice carried through the door.

Reagan stopped as soon as the door opened, their mother's smiling face nearly beaming. Her dark curls a tangled mess after her hectic shift, they did nothing to subtract from the barely aged beauty of their mother. Blessed with great genetics, the only sign of the Italian-Latina's true age were the light creases across her forehead and the shallow smile lines around her mouth. Melissa McCall's smiling face, not unlike that of her son's, faulted for a moment from surprise.

Not only were her children up, they were up together. As close as they had been as children, it would seem only natural that upon entering high-school they went their different ways. A new school had brought with it new friends, new activities, and new social circles. However, since her daughter's breakup with one such popular boy, it seemed they had once more returned to their thick as thieves mentality. Her oldest baby's pain was unwanted. The same could not be said about the outcome. So excited by the prospect of things returning to normal, she chose not to linger on the suspicious way they had both gone silent at her entrance.

"Well, this certainly saves some time." Melissa grinned. "Breakfast and pictures in 45 minutes!"

"Mom!" The two groaned, neither excited for the yearly tradition of first-day pictures. But their protests weren't solely for themselves. Now that their mother had taken to double, and on rare occasions triple, shifts they didn't want her awake any longer than she needed to be.

"Time's ticking. Pictures happening dressed or not and breakfast will be eaten before you leave!" She left no room for argument as she left them to finish getting ready.

Knowing her mother wouldn't hesitate to catch her in an acne mask Reagan jumped from the bed and rushed towards her own bathroom to get ready for the day. Scott continued packing his stuff, only for his door to open once more. Reagan's head popped through the opening. "You need a ride?" She glanced down at the hidden injury on his side, sure to make the simple twenty-minute bike ride hell.

Scott paused, taking stock of the injury only to cast her a shy smile. "Nah, I'll be fine. It doesn't hurt that much."

"Really?" Reagan gave him a bemused stare. She chalked it up to male pride. But Scott's smile grew to a grin.

"Actually, I feel kinda great." He almost laughed, realizing that despite last night and his side, he had indeed felt more energized than he had in some time. Returning to his packing, he missed the look of awed skepticism that passed Reagan's face as she eased the door closed once more.

* * *

Taking the seat in the furthest corner of the room, Reagan allowed her bag to slide off her shoulder and onto the floor next to her. She exchanged polite smiles at classmates and friends as the rest of the class entered just short of the late bell. Those smiles abruptly stopped when Stiles pushed past two teens and nearly made a scene of crashing into the wall in an effort to beat another student to the seat in front of her. Across Stiles and a row up, Scott took his own seat, sparing her a sympathetic look, unable to stop him from making a scene.

"Have you seen Lydia tod-?" Stiles was shameless.

"No." Reagan cut him off. She hadn't seen Jackson, or Lydia or anyone else from the group she used to call her friends before they seemed to cut her out during the summer. "Now shut up and pay attention." She hissed as he already began drawing the ire of their new history teacher going through introductions.

"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night." Ms. Wilcox didn't bother to mince words as he started writing on the chalkboard. Stiles straightened in his seat, a ball of tangible excitement since Scott had told him what had happened once they split apart. As if seeing this, Wilcox continued, "And I'm sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened."

"There's a serial killer targeting young girls in the woods," Stiles whispered back at her. Reagan kicked the back of his seat. Stiles turned around, biting his lip to keep from laughing at her scornful expression. He was enjoying this bout of unsurety from the normally unshakable girl.

She knew full well he was just trying to get a rise out of her, knowing how often she went running through those woods to maintain her muscle tone for track in the offseason. She'd let him have his fun, knowing he'd be burned out and bored of it by the end of the week.

"-Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk for the semester." Reagan opened the thin packet on her desk. She had barely listened as Wilcox read aloud the front page, he eyes and attention stolen by the window next to her. Or rather, what laid outside it.

Across the field, and behind the parking lot rested the forest once more. Her eyes glanced at them a few times before turning her attention back to the papers. Though maybe too focused. Her heartbeat slowed, her breathing became shallow and for a few moments, it felt like she shut down, like finding a spot on the wall and just...fading away.

The room had gone silent except for the occasional tap and scratch coming from Mr. Wilcox's chalk. Leaving her to enter a daze or utter and complete distraction until the large room door gave a resounding click and creak. Reagan's head turned first to the woods, then the door.

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

She reminded her of snow white, Reagan decided. Extremely pretty with brown curls falling well past her shoulders, she was thin and well dressed, if not a bit timid under the gazes of the entire class. Reagan guessed she'd be hunted down by Lydia before lunch…

"Ms. McCall?" Wilcox demanded her attention. "Be so kind as to pass out the books on the shelf behind you?"

Five hundred feet away, a shadowy figured watched the classroom, retreating further back into the trees.

* * *

For most, the first day had passed quickly. A deception of the days to come. This applied mainly to the majority of students already clearing out for the parking lot, ready and eager to go home for one final night of no homework what so ever. Small clusters of students still lingered, getting ready to begin their extra-curricular activities.

"She's doing it again." Lana smiled as she and her friend Alicia walked up to Stilinki.

Behind him stood the McCall siblings. While the boys were focused on watching the new girl chatting with Lydia Martin, Reagan stood before her open locker, eyes staring intently yet unfocused at the book in her hand. Kafka's The Metamorphosis was not what Lana would call riveting but it might just hold the answers to the universe the way Reagan was staring at its over.

Lana waved her hand beside Reagan, getting no reaction.

"Can someone tell me how new girl is here all of five minutes and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?" Alicia studied the now growing group of school leaders behind her.

"Because she's hot. Beautiful people herd together." Stiles shrugged before turning around to the older McCall. "Wait, why aren't you herding?" He poked the side of her pretty face, starting her back up again. Lana covered her mouth to muffle a small laugh. It was like hitting an old computer when it froze. Reagan slipped the book into her backpack, zipping it closed and giving Stiles her attention. Zoned out as she may be, she never seemed to miss a thing.

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment." She slammed her locked closed, not indulging the glances from the other group it gained. "Breaking up in high school's like a divorce. I keep the friends I had before I went into the relationship and he keeps the friends he had before the relationship." She glanced at Lydia who had aligned with Jackson who was bound by bro-code to side with the guy who'd been his best friend since grade school. "I've also lost half my wardrobe and my cats are acting out." She frowned remembering the lack of comfy guy clothes she could no longer wear to bed nor cuddle up in, the thought of the guy that used to cuddle her making her chest twinge painfully.

"So then you're totally free to sleep at my place, Friday?" Alicia and Lana stared at her expectantly. She'd been hiding all summer.

Reagan glanced at something over their shoulders. She gave a curt "Love to." Before pulling her bag onto her own. "You've got practice. And I've got a meeting with Kyle. Text you later."

She walked away without another word. Her last communication the show of hand when Stiles reminder she was meant to meet them after practice.

The four teens turned their attention back to the popular group. The clear reason she had all but tucked tail and run stood there in Lydia's herd. Making eye contact with Scott, Danny smiled nervously. He looked towards his ex-girlfriend's smoke trail with an almost longing gaze before looking to the less than thrilled stares of her friends and turned the other way. They did indeed have practice to get to. Scott had a feeling his sister wouldn't be there cheering them on today.

* * *

"Alright, starting to worry now." Reagan huffed. She had a feeling Scott wasn't fully paying attention to where he was leading them, too involved in recounting the story of his magnificence at practice. She was proud. So very proud, and even very more surprised, yet she knew no matter how good he did, the athletic department would never allow Coach to put a severely asthmatic kid on first line.

Speaking of which, the brand new $80 inhaler they were meant to be searching for was yet to be even discussed by anyone but her. At least she and Scott were searching for it. Stiles only seemed interested when the words "dropped it next to the body" were uttered. It was the inevitable ass-chewing they got from their mom if they had to order a new one so soon that had spurred her into agreeing to enter the woods.

Using a fallen tree as a bridge, they crossed the thin brook that ran through the forest, unaware of the natural boundary that signified the end of the preserve.

"And that's not the only weird thing. I can hear stuff I shouldn't be able to. Smell things-"

"Smell things, like what?" Stiles challenged.

Scott turned and continued walking backwards, looking to the sky as he took a simple sniff. "Like the Mint Mojito gum in your pocket. And the sour-candy in your bag." He eyed his sister's bag. She didn't bother checking, shrugging her shoulders. She always had candy somewhere in her bag. But Stiles was far more impressed.

Mumbling to himself he checked his jacket pocket only to pull out a half torn piece of gum.

"Impressive." Reagan agreed, swatting Stiles's hand away when he tried to check her back. "But now can you find an inhaler in a forest?" She challenged, trying to get them back on the task at hand, wavering her hand at the acres of forest around them.

"I'm not psychic." Scott shrugged. Almost disappointed he couldn't help.

Reagan stared him down, not amused by his innocent sarcasm. "Oh, but you're something, right?" She mocked. She released a long suffered groan, pushing them to keep going.

Stiles took the opening with glee. "So this all started with a bite?"

"By a wolf!" Reagan chimed in, a closed mouth grin stretching her face and she repeated his theory.

"In California?"

"Where there are no wolves." She pointedly spread her arms out to the mostly silent woods around them, only the leaves crunching blow them and the birds chirping above them.

Scott stopped to look back at his two best friends with a sour expression. He hated it when they seemed to meld minds to gang up on him. Shaking his head he turned back around and moved their direction slightly to towards the west. They could mock him all they wanted but he was almost certain about it. A dark thought suddenly entered his mind. Once more, he stopped their parade, halting all progress as he turned towards them once more.

"What if it's like an infection?! Like my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?!" Reagan pushed him a little harder to continue on.

"Then I call your room when you die. Don't worry we'll have a wake. We'll cry. You'll be dearly missed." She droned, sparing the woods around them a quick surveyance.

"You know what? I think I've heard of this." Stiles tisked, sounding like he had been tasked with delivering the bad news.

"No, you haven't!" Reagan called bullshit. "Are we close?" She tried yet again to bring up the inhaler.

"Are you serious?" Scott stopped dead yet again, ignoring his sister who passed him.

"NO!" Reagan voiced over. She was tired, she had homework from her AP classes already and she still had to drive to work to pick up her paycheck tonight. Yet here she was: stuck in the middle of the woods waiting for some kind of direction.

Stiles put his hands on his hips, a rather good imitation of the Sheriff when he was forced to give bad news. "It's called lycanthropy."

"What is that?! Is that bad?!" Scott gulped.

Reagan was forced to stop herself. She glanced at the boys over her shoulder, unable to handle the absurdity of the conversation. Her eyes rolled themselves so hard her neck straightened at the force of it. Shaking her head in disbelief, she continued deeper into the forest, eyes focused on the ground around them.

"Idiots, the both of you." She whispered.

Taking extra care, she skidded down the steep hillside, grabbing the branch of a smaller, weaker tree to steady herself from landing on her face. This looked like the area Scott described. Looking back up, she realized the boys were out of sight, only the low murmur of their distant voices heard as they slowly began following after her. "This the spot?" She called out to them, inspecting the few rocks and seemingly ripped pieces of an oak trunk that littered the area. _Maybe he did just hurt himself falling_ , she thought.

Her scouting of the area stopped when she heard the repetitive crunching of leaves, like footsteps. The thing that alarmed her; however, was that they were coming from the wrong direction. "Fucking Stiles." She cursed under her breath. Her paranoia was his doing. Speaking of the devil...

"-trying to melt all the silver I can find it's 'cause Friday's a full moon." Reagan turned around to see the buffoons emerge from atop the hill. Scott skid down the area without any help where Stiles landed on his ass halfway down.

A bewildered Scott rubbed the back of his neck, seeing no sign of the blue and white plastic he had been so sure he'd droped amidst the blanket of orange, red, and browns. "I could've sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running..." Joining him in the search, Reagan began sifting through the ocean of fallen leaves. The wind late last night had shaken entire trees almost bare.

"Maybe the killer came back and moved the body?" Stiles offered. He was more disappointed by the missing corpse he'd been assured was there than the lost inhaler.

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like 80 bucks."

"Keep looking." Reagan chided moving through the area. So intent on sifting through the leaves, a new presence went unnoticed by all but Stiles. He hit Scott's shoulder, hard enough for him to flinch.

"Uh, Rea..." The boy's voice made her peer up, his gesture to her right made her sight follow.

She took a step back, her heart stamping her chest as the stranger followed with a step forward. In a slight cat and mouse game, they moved in sync. Taller than any of the trio and broader too, his near scowling face was rather off-putting.

"What are you doing here?" Another and another, he continued to approach for every step Reagan retreated until he stood mere inches away from where she had originally been. "This is private property."

"Uh, sorry, man, we didn't know." Stiles tried to apologize. Reagan stood before her boys, straightening to her full height, her head raised in defiance.

"There's no sign or gate." She boldly challenged in their defense. His eyes flickered to her, sizing her up once before turning back to look at Scott.

The light eyes seemed familiar to her as she gave her own once over. He didn't scream serial killer. Though there appeared to be no hatchet or chainsaw in sight, he was big enough to easily make him menacing. She suddenly wished she was wearing a jacket while under his cold stare. The thin sweater top she wore over her jeans meant for fashion not function.

Scott tried to play peacemaker, taking a less abrasive approach than his sister. "We were just looking for something but...uh, forget it." He finished quietly. He'd already given up hope on finding the inhaler but they certainly wouldn't be sticking around to search much longer, now.

In a snap, he had thrown something at the boy. With his blossoming talents, he caught it easily despite the distance. Reagan's eyes lingered on the blue and white inhaler before going back to the now retreating leather-clad back of the stranger.

"Do we know him?" Reagan finally turned towards Stiles who had kept his mouth partly open.

"Dude! That's Derek Hale!" He slapped her shoulder with the back of his hand, her own annoyed retaliation swiftly following while looking back, only to find him completely disappeared. "He's only a few years older than you." Stiles reminded.

"I remember.", came her soft admitted.

"I don't." Scott confessed.

"His family all burned to death in a fire, like, six years ago." Stiles tastelessly summarized the tragedy that had once plagued the town.

The Hale House Fire was a headline that ran for months as police and journalist all wondered what had caused the fire to take nearly twenty lives. A tragedy on it's own, the fact it had occurred the night the entire family had seemed to gather made a shadow of sinisterism follow the tale. In a single night, the town would never forget an entire bloodline had nearly been wiped off the map. A rather wealthy family at that. The only young survivors of which, had conveniently been out of the house at the time of the fatal accident despite the late hour. They were run out of town, along with their new fortunes, by the force of rumors and suspicion alone, never to be heard from again. Or so the story went...

"He had a sister our age, Carly, I think." Stiles finished, seeing no recognition in Scott's saddened face.

"Cora." Reagan corrected staring at the place Derek had once been. A sad boy waiting despondently in a hospital chair and the smell of smoke clinging to the air was all that came to her. The name, like the memory, felt more like a dream she'd woken up from to quickly. Unable to explain the reason or the ending of.

Seeing his sister begin to fade Scott hit her arm with the back of his hand. Like she always did, she immediately came to focus and changed the topic. "I'm late picking up my check and you're late for work." She scolded him. "Move it, Hardy boys." The brushed her hair back behind her ear before pushing the shellshocked Stiles back towards the trail.

* * *

Reagan had woken up Tuesday morning to find the house empty. Assuming her mother was pulling a double and Scott had left early for practice, she thought nothing of it. It wasn't until she was met with Stiles's own questioning gaze and shrugged shoulders that she began to worry. First and second period came and went and during their small reprieve of classes, Reagan wasted no time laying into the boy.

"Scott! Where the hell are you?! I've covered for you twice now but you miss another class and they're calling mo-" She wasn't able to finish as Stiles came up behind her and plucked the phone from her hand

"Dude, if you're not here for third period you can't go to practice. Coach is deciding first line TODAY!" He nervously ran a hand over his buzz cut, ruffling the barely there hair. The warning bell rang out once more above them. Reagan ripped the phone back, giving her brother one final warning of the wrath of their mother before heading to class.

Her short walk was rudely interrupted by a sudden shout from behind. " _Don't kill me!_ "

Reagan was propelled forward by the sudden force of her brother running into her. She turned on him with a wild look in her eye, not missing his messy hair and disheveled appearance.

"Oh you're brave!" She scoffed at his audacity. "Where the hell have you been?!" She slapped his arm.

"The woods."

Her mouth softly fell open, her left eye scrunching in total confusion as she stared at him expectantly. A beat of tense silence passed. He didn't explain any further.

" _Why_?" She loudly promoted him.

"I don't know!" He whined, looking equally perplexed but far more frazzled by the strange morning.

The late bell cut the conversation short. Scott nervously bounced on the heel of his foot, cursing this morning as he realized he was soon to miss the period that could cut him from the team.

"I'm not finished with you!" She called after him, her own tardiness falling to the wayside at the curveball. Scott ignored the thin threat, paying no mind to the warning to watch his asthma as he ran effortlessly without wheezing.

But sure enough, the indecent slipped from her mind the moment she saw her ex walking heading straight for her. Her mind going blank, she panicked and searched around for a desperate escape route. She turned clumsily into the next hallway, nearly flattening her face with an open locker in her haste. Mortified further at her cowardliness, Reagan had willed herself to forget the disastrous morning.

Come Friday afternoon, all she could think about was getting out of the school and sinking into the stress-free zone of Lana's hot tub. When the final bell rang, she collected her things and wished her brother good luck on his date. She didn't even stay long enough to tease him as a proper sibling should before she headed home to clean up and fix their mother dinner.

"That smells _amazing_!" Her mother moaned. Melissa greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek, rubbing her daughter's back appreciatively. "You should have woken me up," She lightly scolded.

With her children's school and sports taking up most of the day, and Melissa working dusk till dawn, their different schedules had proved to be a challenge with summer ending. Like any mother, she wanted to spend as much time with her children as she could get before they were gone. Especially her daughter, who at age eighteen seemed to be halfway out the door as she pushed herself too hard, too fast to catch up on the years she'd missed after the accident. Lately, it felt like she was gonna wake up after another 24-hour shift only to discover both her babies to be grown.

Melissa brushed the hair from Reagan's face, admiring her first baby the way mothers often due: proud, loving, and a little amused. She let the lock of dark blonde hair wrap around her finger, feeling how soft it still was after all these years. Reagan turned to her, her blue eyes lightly narrowed in question as she spared a small smile. "What?"

Melissa shrugged, "Nothing, just wondering when my beautiful babies grew up." It both thrilled and broke her heart seeing her children thrive.

Reagan's paler cheeks gave a slight blush, blindly pushing her mother's hand away and bashfully laughed it off. They had the same laugh, Melissa smiled to herself.

They shared no DNA, but Melissa McCall could see herself in her daughter. Her laugh, her strength, her protective nature… But there was something more in those blue eyes, a spark of life and challenge that made her take on anything that came her way. It was that spark that let her know the moment she held her in her arms, she was meant to be hers.

"How are those AP classes coming?" She asked, dipping a finger into the spaghetti sauce she was making. "I know you can handle it, but are you sure you don't wanna have a bit more free time this year?"

Reagan rolled her eyes, scratching her leg with the other foot. She's been read the same riot act from her counselor days before. "Fine." She tilted her head, staring thoughtfully into the bubbling sauce.

"Do your homework?" Melissa reached into the cupboards, pulling out a coffee cup and starting a new batch.

"Yep."

Melissa pursed her lips at the short answers. "Anything interesting happen this week?" She probed, pulling out the creamer and sugar.

On the other side of the kitchen, Reagan's observed her mother through the microwave's reflection. "No." She schooled her voice, assuming the sheriff hadn't told her about the late night in the woods since their mother had yet to bring it up in the past week.

Melissa suddenly turned around, the silverware drawer shaking as she suddenly closed it. Reagan spared her mother a glance over her shoulder from the small clattering of the silverware drawer. A hand on her hip, Melissa brandished the fork she had pulled, threateningly. Reagan felt her heart drop in her stomach, thinking they'd been caught.

"If you don't respond with more than one-word answers, I swear, I will stick you with this fork." Her mother warned.

Reagan kept her face passive, that spark of challenge in her eyes. She called her bluff. "Okay."

Her mother took a step forward and Reagan squealed, "I love you!" She feigning frightened. "That's three!" She called out as her mother wrapped her arms around her, flinching from what was to come.

" _Mwah!_ " Came the vocal kiss to her head. She took the slotted spoon from her hand. "You head over to Lana's, honey, I'll finish it."

"You sure?" Reagan asked, eager to get going but reluctant to leave.

"Yeah, have fun. And be safe." She wasn't playing when she pointed her finger this time. "I don't want you running through those woods until that cougar's found."

Reagan raised her hands as she backed out of the kitchen, assuring their wood be no argument from her on the matter. Her retreat was halted only momentarily when he mother called her back in. "What do you know about this girl Scott likes?" She grinned, hoping for something to tease him with.

"New. Pretty. Doe-eyed." Reagan shrugged. "Haven't met her yet." She summarized.

"Huh, okay." Melissa was a bit disappointed, feeling she may have put too much stock into that morning seeing them together. "Go relax, baby." Melissa shoed her away.

And sure enough, she did. The night at Lana's, a clear but subtle way to keep her mind of the party Danny was throwing., was filled with light drinking, cheesy movies and plenty of soaking in that muscle melting hot tub.

It was late the next morning when she walked back through the door. She felt like a new person, or rather; the old, happier her.

Dropping her bag in front of her door, she lightly knocked before opening her brother's ajar door. Stiles sat on the end of the bed beside her brother, a lacrosse ball in his fidgeting hands. "So how was your date?" She smiled mischievously, ready to tease him the way she should have last night. Whatever he wouldn't tell her she could easily pull out of Stiles later. Upon her own cloud of glee, she had missed the tension in the room.

Scott raised his head that had been tucked to his chest. His sister's smile fell at the sight of the two boys less than thrilled looks on their rather exhausted faces.

"Not well, I take it." She probed gently, knowing by the way Stiles avoided her eyes alone that something more than a bad date had occurred.

Stiles shifted nervously, scratching his cropped hair and looking to Scott to say something. A less than subtle conversation unfolded before her eyes before Stiles finally slapped his shoulder, trying to make him say something.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was soft but firm, not letting him brush aside whatever it was that was hurting him so badly. The tension in the room was palpable. Her brother was worried and scared, and it transferred to her the moment she stepped into the room. She looked to Stiles, only to see him abruptly turn his eyes away, knowing he had little strength when it came to her stare-downs. "Scotty?" She tried with a hint of fear.

"Promise you won't hit me?" Scott swallowed.

Reagan felt her heart fall into her stomach at the timid voice. Sitting beside her brother, she gave him a weak "No…" Suspecting it wasn't his usual foolishness that had gotten him into trouble this time but unwilling to make it feel any more serious than it was.

With a heavy sigh, he told her _everything._

* * *

**※ Feel Good! by Mike Del Rio ※**


	3. 1.02 ※ Second Chance at First Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reagan and Derek get off to a rocky start.

_"There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen..."_

_...Beacon Hills is not that place._

* * *

**Where the Wild Things Are...**

**Chapter 3:**

********Second Chance at First Line** ** ** **

* * *

The rest of the day following Scott's confession felt almost numb. A blur of emotions, and hushed words, and Stiles's flailing hands as his ADHD showed itself full-force. The sudden nerves that had taken over him causing him to pace around the room, cutting through the story at every pause until both siblings had threatened to kick him out. It was a joke at first. At least that's what she told herself. But as the day continued, the evidence and testimonials continued to mount until without argument, Scott had convinced her it was all real. Afterall, what reason could he possibly have for making up the part where a group of men chased him through the woods and shot an arrow into his arm.

Reagan held the appendage in hand, tracing her fingers over the spot he said had been ripped through. The skin was healed and flawless, no physical trace of the encounter left beside the shaken terror in his eyes as he recounted the tale. The severity of that look was what sold it.

Her brother was a _werewolf_ …

… and there were people trying to kill him.

The trio argued amongst themselves, early into the night as to whom they could tell; if anyone. The argument was settled for them when their mother returned from her second shift. Brushed aside her questioning of the night before, a look shared between them cemented the fact that if they couldn't bring themselves to tell their mother, the secret was to remain among the three of them.

The teens had split apart, making various excuses as they used her entrance to make exits of their own. Stiles left under the guise of needing to return home. Her brother having fallen into a well deserved sleep, Reagan had made herself a comforting cup of coffee and retreated to the porch swing outside.

Curling up on the large wooden bench, she held the warm cup in her hand and watched the people of their neighborhood leave for errands and dates. The earth spun on without incident despite the fact it felt like her entire world had come to a screeching halt.

She stared at the simple flowers that had grown to rest just above the edge of the porch floor. Watching the small white petals grow pinkish under the setting sun, she fell back into a daze. Unresponsive to the world around her, a barrage of thoughts and fears began racing through her mind at just what this meant for her brother.

She mindlessly took another sip of her coffee, the now cold liquid proving she'd been lost in thought more than the minute she felt she'd been. Jarred by the change, she realized there was a dark form casting a shadow over her flowers. Reagan narrowed her eyes, already suspecting she wouldn't like what she found.

There stood Derek Hale on the yard before her. His face was expressionless, giving nothing away as he stared straight at her. She didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but he seemed to take their eye contact as an invitation to approach. Her furrowed brows deepened for every step he took up to the porch. Sticking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, he appeared indifferent to her coldest of glares.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. Cautiously, but not unkindly. According to Scott; he had indeed saved her brother's life, even if that's not the way Scott had chosen to phrase it.

His eyes rolled up eyeing the roof of the porch and the bedroom window he knew rest above it. "Just testing something."

"Well test it elsewhere." She regained some of her bite, having the distinct feeling what he was testing related to her brother.

Derek's eyes fell back to her. "I'm not the bad guy here."

"No? You certainly aren't the good guy, either, Derek." She shook her head in apathy, unable to know the small pain it gave him. "He told me everything."

"Then you know I saved his life." He frowned, returning her stoic gaze.

The silence that followed would be enough to make most other people squirm. But not Reagan. And certainly not Derek. He took the time to look into her blue eyes, studying her in-depth now that he was closer.

Reagan was not one to jump to conclusions. Often considered "soft" she tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. God knows she needed it after her accident but no one had ever done what Derek had done. He had placed her baby brother in this whole other world. A dangerous world where werewolves roamed the forest and men with crossbows shot at children. One she didn't know how to protect him, from which in turn made her frustrated and angry. And she was lashing out at him. "If that's what you want to call it…"

The front door opened, a mop of messy black curls popping through the opening. "Hey, I'm-" Melissa McCall had almost missed the young man standing in front of her daughter. "Hello!"

Reagan silently fumed when he had the nerve to actually smile. His scruff covered face brightening and becoming much younger without the scowl.

Glancing back and forth between her daughter and the handsome stranger, Melissa raised her eyebrows in question before retreating. "Sorry, uh, just giving you a heads up. I'm making pancakes for dinner so don't be too long. Okay?"

Reagan kept her eyes on the door, waiting for it to close before she looked back at Derek, only to find him already gone and out of sight.

She didn't know how much she'd grow to resent him doing that in the years to come...

* * *

Monday came and went in a blur of classes and assignments. Their transition was over and the real work had begun, the five assignments waiting on her a testament to that fact. The locker creaked in the emptied hallway, leaving Reagan alone with her thoughts as she exchanged one book for another.

Something clattered in the back of her locker, a hollow shaking sound that immediately drew her attention. Her hand gripped at a short, curved plastic, pulling it from it's forgotten shallow depths.

Reagan stared down at Scott's spare inhaler with a lost look of whimsy in her eyes.

_"You have to take care of him when he can't take care of himself. You understand that, don't you?"_

Her mother's almost forgotten words twisted her gut.

The initial shock of her brothers new... _condition_ had begun to wane. A choice had been made, and with it, a pact had been formed. No one was to know about the werewolves roaming Beacon Hills, nor the hunters intent on wiping them out.

No one but Stiles and her, that is. With his asthma now cured, the inhaler served no purpose. Just a token to remind her of easier days when the only time Scott might need her was if he lost his inhaler. _That,_ she could help with. _That_ , was when she knew what to do.

Now? She was completely lost.

She'd take her brother having an asthma attack over hunters trying to kill him any day.

She thought of throwing it in the trash like Scott had done with his previous one, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she pocketed the plastic, shutting her locker and headed to find her brother.

She entered the locker room hallway as it began to enter, players padded and masked with lacrosse sticks in hands, they paid little attention to her as they talked and laughed amongst themselves.

Weaving through the crowd, she dodged and ducked shoulder and nets as she tried to pass through. Her foil came not from above, but below. Stumbling over a pair of feet, she felt the world turn sideways as she began to fall. Her bag slid from her shoulder and fell to the ground. She, however; did not. Squeezing her eyes just and preparing for impact, the cold hard surface never came.

Two arms came around her, catching her and pulling her back up before she'd completely made a fool of herself. Her own hands grabbed onto the gloved hands around her waist, holding it like a safety bar at the worst ride in the fair. Reagan felt her head spin at the sudden whiplash worthy motion.

But even with her head buzzing, the familiar scent was unmistakable. The scent of Armani cologne was familiar to her and wrapped in the warm embrace, she almost allowed herself to relax back into it.

 _Almost_ being the keyword.

"Nice catch, Māhealani!" Laughed one boy as they continued filling out the field.

"You okay?"

Regan flinched at how close it sounded, feeling the heat of his breath on her cheek. She wasn't prepared for how much it hurt her. A vivid memory of a hundred surprise hugs, and cheek kisses, and secret whispers came back to her. This surprise embrace did not have the same effect.

Regan gently squeezed his arms, pulling them from around her waist. The smile she gave him was a mere glance, but even from the brief peek, he could see how forced it looked on her. "Ya-Yeah. Thanks." She willed herself to control the heat in her cheeks as she crouched to gather the notebooks and pens that had scattered out of her worn out hobo bag.

"I told you, like, a hundred times you need a new bag." He took a knee across from her. Removing his gloves, he helped her pick up the scattered pens around them. The tone was playful, knowing how much she loved it and hoping it would invite her usual speech in its defense. Instead, he was met with silence.

Reagan didn't debate, not knowing what to say. When she dared to look up at him as he handed her the thinning fabric she found him staring at her. She willed herself to control the heat she could feel growing on her cheeks. This was so not how the ex-reunion was meant to happen. She wasn't in her best outfit, her hair was a mess and of course, she'd nearly made a fool of herself in front of him.

The awkwardness only grew.

They hadn't talked since that night in his room, and just like that night, Reagan suddenly felt very naked under his gaze. Taking the offered bag, she slung it back over her shoulder, pretending not to see the hand he offered her as she stood on her own.

Seeing her shift her weight and look for a polite way to leave, he dared to try a different tactic. "You weren't at the party."

Regan bit her lip, before letting it spring free. "I, we, I mean the track team hadn't hung out much over the summer so we kinda had a girls night. Sorry." She didn't even know why she was apologizing.

"Don't be," he said softly. If there was anyone to apologize for anything it was him. "I was hoping to see you, though...so we could talk."

"I, uh, I don't think we really need to." She twists her hips awkwardly, compelling her body to walk away but feeling stuck under his unwavering gaze.

 _Stupid fucking puppy dog eyes were her god damn undoing…_ Reagan seethed at her own weakness, giving an internal scream.

"I miss you." He said softly. He hadn't lost a girlfriend that night, he'd lost his best friend. "I miss you. And I don't know how to make it better."

Regan was stunned silent, her mouth dropping open as a thousand different answers struggled to come out at once. Instead, she found herself growing despondent under his sad gaze. _Of all the fucking things she had on her plate right now…_ Figuring out how to get passed her feelings for Danny could wait.

Regan licked her lips, her lips twitching in a sad sympathetic smile. "Me neither."

She didn't wait for the silence to settle between them. Instead, she turned away, pushing Danny to the back of her mind as she called for her brother in the nearly empty locker room.

Stiles called her in, leading her to Scott as he struggled with strapping on his shoulder pads.

"So I'm actually not sure if werewolves use inhalers but I thought it would be better safe than sorry." She held out the plastic only for Scott to continue staring tormented into the distance.

"What did you do?" Regan looked at Stiles accusingly. Stiles balked at the accusation defending himself and informing her that all he knew was that Allison had given him a second chance.

His far-off stare was put down to nerves.

"Are you nervous? Don't be. I mean you screwed up so bad the first time if she gave you another date I don't think there's anything you could do that-"

"Remember the hunters?" He stopped her. "Her dad is one of them…" Scott let his thousand-yard stare slower to meet his sister's wide-eyed, unblinking face.

Her head tilted, her lips pursed. "Pardon?" Her dark brows rose high on her forehead, stretched to their limit, not unlike her patience. This was easily becoming one of the top five worst weeks of her life, and it had barely begun.

"Her _dad_...?" Stiles couldn't seem to wrap his head around it either.

"Shot me." Scott nodded.

"...with a crossbow." Reagan's voice gained a hint of calm disbelief.

" _Allison's father_?!" Stiles looked like he was putting all his effort into figuring out the equation for disaster that was unfolding before them.

"Yes! Her _father_!" Scott snapped. "Oh, my god." Realization finally set in. Scott began to hyperventilate. Reagan covered her own mouth in shock. Stiles hitting the boy with his mitts to bring him back to focus.

"Hey, hey, he didn't recognize you, right?" He tried to see some good in this."

"Does she know about him? Does she know about _you_?" Reagan demanded. Outside, a whistle blew to signal the start of practice.

Scott began to blubber dryly. His face twisting up, he repeatedly whined, "He's gonna kill me!", through his short breaths.

Not knowing what else to do, she forced the inhaler into his open mouth, forcing him to take a deep breath and she pressed it. Out of habit, Scott calmed down enough for Stiles to push his pads and uniform shirt on him.

"Okay, just focus on lacrosse, okay? We'll deal with your date later."

"What? Are you insane?! He can't see her again!" Her indignation went ignored as Stiles dragged her out of the locker room so Scott could get dressed. "Stiles!" Reagan slapped at the hands that dare grab at her, pushing him away and towards the field. "We are _so_ not finished with this!" She yelled after him, her own brother running passed her not a moment after the words left her mouth.

The elder McCall stared after with an appalled look on her face as she went ignored. "Idiots." She scoffed to the empty hallway. "They're both _idiots_."

* * *

Fishing out a ponytail from the dark depths of her now disorganized bag, Reagan made herself comfortable on the bleachers as she waited for Scott. A few minutes later and she had succumbed to her own trance-like state, finding solace in the headphones and homework she focused on. For a while, she gave no thought to the world outside her geometry problems. But as time passed, a nagging feeling began to grow.

Her blue eyes raised for the first time in the past half an hour, looking around for the source of what she could only describe as laser-like stare. She looked around the field, the bleachers, and even the parking lot behind her but found nothing. Frustrated as the feeling only seemed to grow, she pulled the headphones from her ears in an attempt to better focus. Once again she gave a slow and more thorough look through the teens that lingered around the lacrosse field.

She stopped at a group of fellow student loitering around the edge of the field behind her. Girlfriends of other players, friends talking amongst themselves, and a guy taking pictures of the brutality she was missing for what she assumed was the school newspaper. Her brows still felt like she was missing something right in front of her.

Seeming to feel her own searching gaze on him, the photographer turned. His camera lowered, its operator daring to give her an awkward, bashful smile she didn't have a chance to return.

 _"McCall!"_ Came the irate voice of the coach. On habit alone, she turned at the name, watching as her coach seemed to berate her brother as he bent low. An agreement seemed to be reached and they both stood up. _"McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!"_ Coach Finstock cheered mockingly.

Reagan stopped her writing, biting the cap of the pen precariously as she watched her brother line up yet again to charge at Jackson. "Oh no." She mumbled to herself. Her blue eyes squinted in the evening sun, watching with sympathy as he was set up to be dealt a blow, yet again.

This time; however, he was ready. Scott charged without the slightest hesitation and when they met this time, Scott turned at the last second, slamming his shoulder's into Jackson so hard it was he who was lifted up and tossed to the ground. An audible _crunch_ could be heard between them as they collided.

Reagan was on her feet in a blink, the cap falling from her mouth as she watched the scene unfold before her. Stiles ran from the bench, talking to her brother as he kneeled on the ground, perhaps hurt, but nowhere near the level as Jackson Whittemore.

Finstock and the other players huddled around the boy who laid flat on his back. Reagan covering her mouth in shock. She had little time to adjust to the idea her brother was even capable of such a feat.

"Rae!" Stiles called out, pulling her brother away from the growing crowd on the grass.

From the other side of the field, Derek Hale's scrutinizing eyes watched as Reagan abandoned her things where they were to make a mad dash after them.

* * *

Inside the locker room, Stiles dropped Scott onto the floor when he could no longer support him. Scott gave a groan, feeling his teeth sharpen and his senses heighten. He curled in on himself before his locker.

" _What happened?!_ " Reagan chased after her brother, sliding and falling to her knees before his own huddled form. Seeing his distressed state as no different to his asthma attacks, Reagan began yanking at the buckles and straps, pulling his face mask off and throwing it to the side.

Any lingering doubt she had about her brother's inhuman condition was cast from her mind when the siblings' eyes met. Her entire body gave a lurch backward at the sight of pure yellow gold eyes he glowered at her.

"Get away from me!" He growled through his straggling breath. Four sharp teeth stood out amongst the rest,. The muscle around his mouth twitched, eager to sink them into something.

Reagan fell back onto her palms, crawling back as he gave a small lunge. Stiles grabbed her, helping her up as they clumsily ran through the rows of lockers and circled back to the only route of escape. While her brother would normally never hurt a fly, the same couldn't be said for the volatile creature that had taken his place.

Cornered, they had no choice to split apart. Stiles raced in one direction as Reagan raced another, Scott on her heels. Round and round they went, turning and circling in a potentially lethal game of tag nowhere near as fun as she remembered before Stiles seemed to appear from nowhere. Fire extinguisher in hand, he ordered her to drop.

Reagan complied without a thought. Falling onto her ass and sliding on the hard surface, she narrowly missed the spray as Stiles took aim and fired at the werewolf behind her.

"You good?" Stiles asked her a she stood. The two teens backed up just a few step further.

"Been better," Reagan admitted, her heart tattooing her ribs as the adrenaline began to wane. Neither of them took their eyes off the now calmer crouched figure.

A thin coating of the powdered remnants seemed to color Scott's dark hair as gray as Reagan felt her own must be. He looked up at them, his face covered in a thick sheen of sweat and his confused brown eyes squinting at them in confusion.

"Wh-What happened?" He regained his normal breathing.

" _What happened?!_ " Stiles scoffed. "You tried to _kill us_." Scott looked visibly shocked. Guilt already settling on his pensive features, Stiles tried a gentler approach than his normal sarcasm. "It's like I told you before, it's the anger. It's your pulse rising…

"It's a trigger." Reagan cut it. Just like his asthma. And like his asthma, he needed to have limits and avoid them.

Seeing their thinking, Scott was quick to argue. "But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game if you hadn't noticed!"

"Well, it's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can't play Saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game." Stiles pursed his lips, not pleased himself at the turn of events knowing it was for all their best interests.

"But I'm first line…"

"Not anymore."

* * *

Melissa McCall stopped between her children's opened rooms, each one in a world of their own. Scott laid sprawled over his messily made bed, groaning to himself at how much his life sucked at the moment. Reagan sat curled in her bay window with Max at her feet, typing away on her computer.

Catching the movement of her mother's waving hand, Reagan pulled the headphones from her ears and closed her laptop. "Hey, you two. Late shift again for me." Melissa clipped the hospital ID to the windbreaker she wore over her navy scrubs. She turned to her son's room, a proud smile on her face. " _But_ , I _am_ taking Saturday off to see your first game."

Scott lifted his head. "No, Mom, you can't!"

If the horrible feeling of losing first line wasn't enough to make him feel ill, the idea of his mom changing shifts just to see a game he wouldn't be playing certainly was.

"Why not? I can and I will." She walked into the room, her daughter behind her. "Come on, one shift isn't going to break us. Not completely." She looked around the spacious room.

The spacious home was bought in happier times, when they were still a two steady income household and before surprise medical bills had wiped out much of their savings. Still, she couldn't bear to part with the house she'd raised her children in. Not now, not ever. Even if that meant missing a bit more time with them to keep it.

She turned back to her children, putting on a bright smile to show the morbid joke was only that.

When neither of her children returned it, she grew curious. Scott hadn't even said anything about his sister sitting on him. "Hey, what's wrong with your eyes?" She leaned closer, seeing the dark circles around them.

The siblings peaked up in alert. Scott almost toppled his sister as he rose his upper half form the bed with little effort. "You look like you haven't slept in days." Melissa probed.

"It's nothing. I'm just stressed."

"Just stress?" Their mother didn't sound convinced. "Nothing else?" She looked from one child to the other.

 ** _"Homework."_** They mimicked.

If anything, it only made her more suspicious.

"I mean, it's not like you're on drugs or anything." Melissa gave an uneasy laugh the longer they stared at her. "Right?"

Subtle.

Reagan and Scott looked to each other than their mother. Her insecurities about missing pieces of their lives had starting to show through. "Right now?" Scott's brows jumped.

" _Right now?!_ I'm sorry, what do you mean, _'Right now'_? Have you _ever_ taken drugs?" Her humor was gone, as panic and fear set in.

"Have you?" Scott asked. The natural smartass he'd inherited was concealed by his genuine, innocent question.

"Maybe back when you got all those Grateful Dead concert shirts hiding in your closet?" Reagan brows rose up in a challenge. "Honesty's the best policy, mom."

Melissa stared at her children, cringing an uneasy smile before frowning. "I liked it better when you were against each other." She lied. Only partially. "Get some sleep. Both of you!"

Reagan waiting until her mother was heard walking down the stairs. Getting off her brother's legs she waited till he had sat up properly before slapping him across the back of his head.

"What the hell?" He hissed, rubbing the tender spot.

Reagan braced her hands on her knees, bending at the waist to stare him down. "That's for trying to kill me. _This_ is for raising mom's suspicions." Before he could question her, she flicked his forehead.

Straightening to her full height, she crossed her arms. "You're the one who didn't want to tell her. Now you're the one that has to learn to keep a secret better than that."

"Wait, are _you_ keeping secrets?" Scott looked at her with wide eyes. It was like Jackson accusing him of using steroids all over again.

Reagan's brows furrowed, her lips turning down in a disappointed frown. "The fact you need to ask should tell you how good I am at it. If I was, that is." She threw in. Done with the conversation, she retreated across the hall to her room.

"Wait, does that mean you _are_ or you _aren't_?" Scott called after her. The sound of the closing bathroom door his only response.

One of the new pop songs of the month played over her bathroom speaker, hushing the running shower and completely drowning out the commotion across the hall as her brother's life was threatened by one Derek Hale. Had she'd have known what it would lead to Friday night, she would have hit them both. This time with a bat.

* * *

"I can't believe we're really doing this. This is such a _Stiles_ thing to do..." Reagan's eyes scanned the perimeter of the Hale house, wrapping her coat around her tighter at the eerie feeling the abandoned property gave her.

Something had changed in the relatively quiet town that day. Having made no further progress in the investigation, the sheriff's office had put a nine o'clock curfew on the underaged residents of the town. A new wave of unease and rumors spreading beyond the gossipy nature of the high school as police appeared to find no more evidence of the dead girl's supposed 'predator' killing other than sheer wishful thinking alone. A predator had killed the torso-less girl without debate. It was whether that predator walked on four legs, or two, that was now the question.

And suspect number one, was none other than Derek Hale.

The scent of blood and rotting flesh too faint for the humans to smell had plagued Scott in his new heightened state. Derek Hale had threatened his life not once, but twice, warning him of the consequences that would befall them all should Scott draw the hunter's attention. That alone had filled him with such fear he was near willing to comply. But when Allison Argent became involved in what Scott perceived as a threat to her as well, fury took fear's place.

It was there on the Hale property, issuing a warning of his own, that Scott spotted the freshly disturbed dirt and the scent of blood in the air. Any superficial excuse for what looked to be the fresh grave was voided after a risky mission to the hospital morgue only confirmed that the putrid smell of death was the same as the unidentified Jane Doe.

Now here she was, spending her Friday night watching her brother and his best friend dig up a body. Well, half a body, in Derek Hale's yard. Attempting to prove him as the murderer and be done with the mess once and for all.

For Scott, the short-sighted plan seemed simple. Catch the killer. Win the game. Keep the girl. Get to live a semi-normal life.

Digging up a grave in the middle of the night on a suspected murderer's property in the middle of the woods was how to get the ball rolling, apparently.

How the hell did she end up here, again?

"You're supposed to be the lookout." Stiles chided, already beginning to huff as they dug into the loose soil. "So, I don't know, look! Out there!" He waved his hand in the direction of the vast woods that concealed the road. Derek had left only minutes before and they had no idea when he was to be expected back.

So she turned her annoyed gaze towards the road. At least for the first twenty minutes. Attentive and on edge, her eyes roamed around the forest's edge looking for any sign of life or beaming headlights.

A gust of wind ran through the preserve, blowing the hair that had escaped her ponytail into her face. Reagan brushed the misbehaving strands aside, turning back in hopes the wind would assist her. Clearing her face, she forgot about look-out duty when she eyes landed on the shell of a house that loomed above them.

A mostly forgotten staple of the Beacon Hills community, the three-story home had been taken over by the county long ago. Burnt, abandoned, and supposedly haunted, without even the county willing to come out to maintain it, nature had taken its course. The ancient forest around them slowly began to reclaim the house. It only served to heighten the spook factor that the legend of most haunted houses thrive on.

At Beacon Hills high, there was a Halloween tradition for only the bravest of freshmen. Walk to the front door and knock four times. Though she'd been to the home once or twice before, she'd never seen any reason to partake in the silly tradition.

So why she suddenly found herself walking to the home was beyond her. "Curiosity killed the cat" and all that, she guessed...

Reagan spared one last glance at the still pitch black road before entering up the stone steps.

Unlocked, the door swung open with the smallest of groans. The damaged porch boards cracked and creaked under her weight. After spending so many years left to rot in silence, the house seemed to take every opportunity to protest its awakening.

Eying what was left of what might have once been considered a grand staircase, she made her way into the large open area to her right. Perhaps a family room, whatever furniture it once housed, like the occupants, was long ago burned and left forgotten.

It looked as if all of the windows had been blocked by reused wood that no longer offered any value as whatever it was before. Dark and dusty, Reagan couldn't help but think of one thing when she stepped inside it. Fear.

Her hand traced against the burn wallpaper. Cracked and crumbling, it fell as ash beneath her light touch. The charred wood below it was coarse under her fingertips, black soot rubbing off and staining her skin. The chill of the fall air was gone, a sudden warmth seeming to replace it.

Reagan had trouble catching her breath. A feeling an uncomfortable panic stirring deep inside as she back peddled out of the room.

Dust, she thought. She spared a small cough before opening the door. The seed of fear grew to panic when the door slightly caught, the wood warped from years of disrepair. Reagan tried it twice more, ready to scream for help when it decided to open after a particularly harsh yank. She did not dawdle in the home.

Reagan took deep breaths of the fresh air, trying desperately to clear the dust and ash that seemed to work itself into her lungs. She wiped at her eye, not expecting to feel the tear that came from the irritation.

Reagan turned to curse the home but found herself unable to speak. Inside her, something gripped at her chest, a suffocating feeling of desperation and fear and sadness. She was being stupid and superstitious, she decided. The fact tonight happened to be the 13th and fell on a Friday fraying her nerves more than it normally would.

"Dude, we found a wolf!" Stiles called out, the first to spot her coming towards them.

Hearing the boys walking she approached not paying attention to what was in the hole with the pure intention of telling them they needed to leave. The stood tall over her as she entered its shadow in the moonlight, a sharp chill running through her spine.

"A wolf? What the hell is that?" Reagan regarded both the boy and the filthy rope in his hand with clearly disgusted frustration. She didn't put much into the purple flowers that spotted throughout it, each one pulled from the earth as Stiles uprooted it from its own shallow grave.

"Wolfsbane." No further elaboration was given.

Frustrated by their lack of progress, Reagan gave a seething groan walking off. Her path was stunted, her body freezing at the edge of the grave. Had the boys been paying attention, they would have seen the way her spine straightened, her hand covering her mouth. "Guys…"

Stiles and Scott both turned their attention to her. "What?"

"I thought you said it was a wolf?" Her voiced cracked. Reagan looked back at the two boys, a layer of disbelieving shock marking her previously passive face.

Confused and alarmed, the boys rushed to her side. Like Reagan, they felt their entire body sway back in shock. "Holy shi-"

"It's _.._. _human_." The wolf's head they had first uncovered was gone. Something new, and even more terrifying having taken its place.

There laid the upper half of Jane Doe. Her mouth frozen open in a scream, a glazed look of terror cemented into her eyes. Eyes that seemed oddly focused for being dead. Reagan's knees slowly gave out. Her body crouched down beside the grave, entranced by eyes that stared at her. Eyes that would haunt her for months to come.

Derek Hale would be arrested the following morning.

* * *

Melissa regarded her daughter with amused suspicion. "What's with you tonight?"

"Huh?" Reagan didn't bother looking at her mother, her eyes continuing to scan the crowd for someone.

"Okay, what's got you so- oh, is it a boy?!" Melissa's face lit up with the prospect. She craned her neck over the crowd of the concession-stand lines around them and began searching for a familiar face like she was sure her daughter was. "It wouldn't happen to be your handsome gentleman caller, would it?" Melissa wiggled her eyebrows, giving her daughter's hip a playful bump with her own.

Regan's wide-eyed shock was mistaken for embarrassment and Melissa laughed. "He was cute." She prodded. She turned away, receiving her change.

"He's a murderer," Regan mumbled. She took the popcorn they'd been waiting on, tossing a kernel into her mouth.

"What?"

"He's over there," Regan annunciated loudly, pointing in the direction of a familiar face. Sheriff Stilinski nodded to the two women, walking with them but declining her offer over the buttery treat. The three sat together in the second row. Reagan sipped on the soda her mother handed her, pretending to look nowhere in particular as she spied a familiar strawberry blond head of hair in the row beside them. Sure enough, beside Lydia was Allison. And beside Allison sat the older Argent. The man trying to kill her brother...

"Reagan?" Her mother knocked their knees together, clearly having been talking to her. Another noncommittal hmm was all she got. Her more worried confusion slipped from mine when the players took the field. "Are you excited?" She turned to her daughter, her smile full and illuminating.

"Not as much as you." Reagan laughed, a chuckle filled with hidden dread as she herself was consumed by nervous jitters. Her mother slung an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close as they watched the game gear up to go. Reagan took small comfort in the act, her wondering eyes turning to Chris Argent once more.

When she turned back, she and Stiles shared an equally fearful gaze, hesitant sighs leaving their lips as the whistle blew.

The game began, but Scott's chances seemed to have already ended. The werewolf was systematically blocked at every turn. One by one, his own team members seemed to turn on him, every attempt to catch or collect the ball thwarted. But to his credit, Scott remained relatively calm, if not disheartened.

It wasn't until the middle of the third quarter that his patience reached its end. Scott dove for the open ball, intent to prove his worth, only to be checked from the side by Jackson. The hit landed soundly, revenge for the busted shoulder the days prior, and Scott was knocked completely off his feet as Jackson scooped up the ball.

Melissa gave a small gasp in shock as Reagan bit at her fingertips. It was the violence they had been waiting for. Jackson scored the stolen ball, the crowd growing wild as the two teams nearly tied. Melissa sighed, unhappy with the brutality but a fair sport all the same. She stood with the majority of the crowd, giving enthusiastic claps.

"You sure he's okay to be playing first?" Sheriff Stilinski asked her. Reagan could only give him a worried glance before shifting her eyes to the hunter behind him.

"Probably not." Was all she gave.

But it wasn't the hit that had his blood boil and his eyes turn yellow. It was the chanting. Not far from them Lydia held up a sign, cheering after her boyfriend as any proud girlfriend would. And right beside her, Allison did the same.

The "We luv u Jackson." sign proved to be the final straw.

Reagan gave a nervous twitched looking from her brother to Stiles. Given her brother's short temper when it came to 'protecting' Allison, this couldn't possibly end well.

As the final quarter began, something changed in Scott. It was a primal change, an energy that from a distance caused confusion but up close created an air of fear. His head stayed down, his back arched and his breathing heavy and warm, a cloud of white steam appearing in the chilly autumn air.

Reagan couldn't help but think he looked like a dog with its hackles raised. And even though they couldn't see his face, the players that surrounded him took a step back.

"Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm," Reagan repeated to herself, for both their sakes. Her knee bounced uncontrollably, her own body haunched and leaning as close to the field as possible.

Her head turned looking at Chris Argent only to find him already looking at her. Behind him, his daughter and Lydia cheered once more, Allison less enthusiastic upon realizing something was wrong with Scott.

Her face was a mask, but her eyes gave her away.

"Reagan, are you okay?" Stilinski asked.

The girl gave a noncommittal grunt, her neck twisting painfully as it turned back at the sound of the whistle.

Scott didn't wait this time, charging for the ball, scooping it up and leaping over the bent player without a moment of hesitation. The crowd watched in shock as he dodged every player and stick that came his way. The ball was shot, the following goal tying the game.

The crowd went wild, and even Reagan and Stiles found themselves jumping up in shock and glee.

"Yesss!" Melissa screamed. "That's my boy!" She jumped, clapping her hands so loud it seemed painful. Watched her mother jump up and down like an excited child, made Reagan forget all the negative outcomes of the goal. Regan allowed herself a beaming smile, falling into the game as her brother scored shot after shot in the last ten minutes of the game. In the final minutes of the game, he sent a ball through the air so powerful it cut through the net. It was the oddity needed to sober his sister.

Reagan peaked at Argent one last time, seeing his confusion lowered by his daughters excited cheers. She turned her attention back to Stiles, who, feeling her stare, turned back with a smile of his own.

Perhaps she was just being paranoid.

Reagan bit at her nails, watching her brother being stared down by two opposing players, half a field away from the goal. Scott froze, feeling the power surge through him but hesitant to release it. He stared down his opponents, running out the clock. With mere seconds to spare, Scott hurled the ball across the field. The crowd held their breath. Without a sound, the net shook, the ball landing soundly.

The buzzer that followed was nearly deafened by the sudden cheer of the crowd. They had won.

The crowd around them emptied onto the field. Friends and family rushing to celebrate with the players and the strong omen for yet another championship season.

"Where's your brother?" Melissa stood atop her seat looking for her son in the crowd only to find him gone.

Reagan felt a swell of panic rise when she couldn't spot him anywhere. "I'm sure he's just headed to the locker room. Doesn't want to smell for his new girlfriend and all." Reagan gave her mother a forced, but believable, smile. "I'll grab him."

Melissa nodded, too thrilled by the night to question it. "Okay." She kissed her daughter's head, "I'll warm up the car. Hurry up because I wanna take you guys out for dinner."

"Koi Palace?" Reagan's voice raised in eager surprise. There was never a time too late for Koi Palace. Melissa nodded, knowing the late night Chinese restaurant was rather pricey but one of their favorites. A small splurge wouldn't ruin them, and she was so ecstatic to be able to see this moment, and feeling like part of her children's lives once again, she didn't particularly care.

Regan walked her mother off the bleachers, waving at her as she left.

"Could have gone worse." Stiles sidled up next to her.

"Could have gone better," she rebutted.

"They found what?"

Reagan and Stiles turned, listening in on the Sheriff's phone conversation.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

The Sheriff held out a finger, signaling them to be quiet as he strained to hear and understand just what the lab was telling him. "-DNA match on Jane Doe?" The Sheriff plugged his other ear, mouth dropping open as he heard what could only be a mistake. "I'm sorry did you just say, 'Laura _Hale_ '? As in _Derek_ Hale?"

Mirror images of shock marked the two teenagers features overhearing this particular piece of information. Bits and ends of the conversation were heard but putting it together was clear.

A familial DNA match to Derek had brought up the identification of Laura Hale, a victim of an animal attack, who had only been taken home to be buried, if improperly so.

Stiles swallowed thickly, realizing just how badly they'd fucked up. "Think he'd let it go as an honest mistake?" He cringed a smile, desperate to believe the idea. "No hard feelings?"

"We _dug up_ his sister's then had him _arrested_. On our list of questionable activities, that's _gotta_ be the shittiest."

Silence fell between them as they pretended not to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation. When his father hung up, he turned away, pretending to talk closely with Reagan as he waited for his father to gain some distance. "Rock, paper, scissors for who tells Scott?" He put his fist out, ready to play.

Reagan slapped it down. Her paper covering his rock. "Who's idea was it to dig up the body?" She reminded snidely. That too, quickly changed hearing something even worse than that.

"Now that he's been released..."

Stiles was gone before Reagan even had the chance to fully turn around, already clumsily knocking into strangers in the crow as he sprinted to the locker room. With a tired sigh, Reagan motioned to the confused Sheriff that she, too, would be right back, leaving to find the growing source of her problems.

For once, Scott was growing up to be the pain in the ass little brother he should have been long ago...

* * *

**※ Two Door Cinema Club - Are We Ready? ※**


	4. 1.03 ※ Pack Mentality

**Where the Wild Things Are...**

**Chapter 4:**

**Pack Mentality**

* * *

Despite the strange change in direction their lives had taken the end of that summer, it was nice to take comfort in the fact some things could be relied on. Reagan found herself at peace in the overcrowded cafeteria that Thursday afternoon. The familiar orchestra of students chatting loudly overlapped with the scribbles of pencils desperately trying to complete homework previously procrastinated on complimented by the steady thrums of textbook pages furiously flipping back and forth in a search for answers to an oncoming test and held together by the steady rhythm of crunching chips and chewing food. It was at times unbearably noisy, but today it was no match for Reagan's utter exhaustion.

With her face flat against the cool cover of the textbook she should probably be reading, Reagan used the sounds around her as her own personal white noise machine. At least until a familiar voice woke her from her light napping.

"Something happened last night and I can't remember what."

Like a shrieking alarm breaking through a good dream, the sound of her brother's voice ripped her from her relaxation. It seemed she was forced to rejoin the nightmare once again. Reagan cringed from behind her curtain of hair at the scaping of chairs and echoing of plastic trays hitting the table top assaulted her ears. She already knew where this was going. She tried to squash the conversation before it could begin, desperately trying to hold onto the sleep she felt slipping away.

" _Shhh._ " Her request was muffled under her hair.

"What makes you so sure that Derek even has all the answers?"

"Because during the full moon he wasn't changed."

" _Shhh._ " Reagan tried again. Her brows pinched together, neither pleased by the conversation in such a public place nor by the fact she could feel her nap slip through her fingers. Still, she went ignored.

"He was in total control while I was running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy-"

"You don't know that."

"I don't _not_ know it."

Reagan's eyes snapped open with a clear annoyance. Brushing her hair from her face, she straightened as her flattened hand slapped against the plastic table top. The boys jumped and silenced. " _Shhhhhhhhhh._ " She pointedly hissed. "It's a non-verbal request for silence; a much politer version of _SHUT. UP._ " Reagan snarled. She was running on caffeine fumes as it was, added that fact that not even an hour ago they had learned of Scott's oddly detailed dream connection to the bus attack outside had turned a headache into a full-blown migraine.

Stiles grabbed a fry off her untouched tray, stuffing it into his mouth. "What's with you?"

"Four hours at the gas station and six of homework left me with, like, two to sleep." She pressed her fingers against her eyes, attempting to rub them without smearing her makeup. Those two hours themselves were restless and consumed by visions of Laura Hale's face. "Though mostly I just kinda laid there in bed thinking of what horrible people we are." She was referring to the fact they had all but dug up Laura Hale with smiles and glee. And Stiles knew it.

"We were looking for _evidence_." Stiles tried to placate, his tickle of guilt making him shift in his seat. Honestly, who could have seen that plot twist coming?

"We desecrated a grave!" She reprimanded through clenched teeth, louder than she should have. It was Stiles who shushed them this time. They paused looking at the ever moving crowd around them, no one sparing them a second glance. Sometimes being invisible had its perks. "If someone dug up half your corpse I'd be pretty pissed, too."

"Well, you're gonna have even more nightmares when we find out I mauled some guy!" Scott wheezed, the anxiety he felt weighing crushingly on his chest. His vivid dream that night had been the stuff of nightmares alone, but walking into the school to find it matched with the bloody crime scene waiting for them was something else entirely more terrifying. He whined low in his throat at the thought.

Stilinski rolled his eyes at the two siblings, their hidden high strung nature shining through at a rather inopportune time.

"You _didn't_ do it!" Reagan snapped. There was no filter or volume control this time around, her words causing the conversations around them to pause at the sudden outburst. A foot connected her shin under the table, but Reagan stared down her brother. "You didn't, Scott." She spoke quietly but firmly. "It's not who you are, and that kind of thing doesn't just change overnight…" Werewolf bite or not, was silently added.

Scott stared down his sister eager to believe her but to deep in his self-doubt and pity. He gave a pathetic groan. If it wasn't him then it was possible it was another, and that only added a new dread to him. "I can't go out with Allison. I have to cancel."

" _No!_ You're not canceling, okay? Tell him!" Stiles waved his hand for Reagan to follow through. Instead, they were met with silence. Stiles' brown eyes kept glancing back at her unmoving face. "Uh, Rea?" He cleared his throat. Any moment now would be great.

But the older girl wasn't quite as sure as her friend.

Allison Argent was dangerous my association. The closer Scott got to her the closer he circled around the hunters looking for him. It should have easy for her to shut it down then and there, knowing guiltily in times like this her brother would follow her advice without fail, especially since it was the answer he seemed to be hoping for. And yet, as Reagan looked at his wide eyes and eager face, she knew it wasn't the right thing to do. She'd seen the end of their kiss in the locker room that Friday. The way his face had lit up and his eyes had followed Allison from the room. She recognized that feeling in him. The first kiss of a first love. It hadn't been so long ago she'd felt the same. Reagan closed her eyes as they rolled, a sigh escaping her as she made her decision.

"You need to go out with Allison."

Scott's shocked cry of "What?!" was matched by Stiles victorious " _HA!_ ".

"You can't just cancel your entire life, Scott." He deserved to have the normal life, and it was up to Stiles and Reagan to help see that happen. "We'll figure it out."

"How can you say that?!" He stared at her in betrayal. But Reagan wouldn't support his self-pity as easily as he thought. The time for passive self-pitying was over. The attack on the bus driver proof that this life they'd entered wouldn't just stop if they ignored it. No. Now was the time to take control of it.

"What's mom always saying? Sometimes you have to suffer through a bad spot till you get to the good."

"I don't think she was talking about me being a _freaking werewolf_!" He leaned in to whisper.

"Probably not." She sarcastically conceded. "But we still got through all that stuff anyways, didn't we?" The accident, the divorce, the custody battles. Still, here they sat. Together. "Stiles is right, quitting on Allison isn't going to help you, it's just going to make you more miserable." She bit into one of her fries only to find them cold. Her face wrinkled in distaste. "And by _you_ , I mean _us_." She flicked it at his pouting face.

Though secretly ecstatic his sister was pro-date, Scott still felt the need to grumble, "You haven't even met her."

"I have a feeling I'm about to." Was the girl's cryptic reply before she took the apple off Stiles tray.

The boys didn't wait long, as a beat later Lydia placed her tray down next to Scott.

Stiles nearly choked on his vitamin water. "Why is she sitting with us?" He sputtered. "Lydia's sitting with _us!_ " He stage whispered to her. Reagan took a loud bite of her apple, her brows raising is acknowledgment. " _Why?_ "

"Pack mentality." She whispered back. She scooted her chair closer, bracing her elbows on the table as she mirrored his position. Their faces mere inches apart they turned their eyes to the other students coming their way, watching them like voyeurs on a safari. "She's here because Allison, the newest and weaker member of the pack will surely try and sit with her potential mating partner."

Stiles felt the need to briefly interrupt her. "You've been binging animal planet again, haven't you?" He could tell, he just needed her to acknowledge her problem.

"Yes." She admitted ignoring Stiles humm of understanding. "Now Lydia's pack runs on a hierarchy, Allison may be the newest member but she has longevity and worth. Lydia can't risk losing her to another herd-"

"Like us."

" _Like us._ " She confirmed. "Because it weakens the numbers and leaves them vulnerable to outsiders. Ergo, to protect her investment: where Allison goes, Lydia goes, and where Lydia goes…"

She didn't need to finish. Reagan sat back to watch as one by one the other members of the tribe took over the table around them. In quick succession, the chairs around them were pulled out. There was no bitterness for the clique she had once been apart of but rather dread in her tone. And for good reason. As Danny took a seat on the other side of Stiles, Reagan lowered in her chair in an attempt to make herself invisible once more. Quietly she focused on the apple in her hand. She missed the exchange between Stiles and Danny, the ex-lover trying hard to make eye contact only to be blocked by Stiles's ever moving form. Stiles smiled nervously under Danny's unimpressed frown.

"Get up." Jackson, the brawn to Lydia's brains and high ruler of them all, demanded to the asshat that went by the name Harrison Grundy. Since all the years she had known him, she couldn't recall a time Jackson wasn't the head of a lunch table.

"How come you never ask Danny to get up?" Harrison grumbled. He obeyed all the same.

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot," Danny smirked, Jackson's oldest, and most loyal of friends. The fact he was openly gay now cemented that truth.

Reagan gave a little snort of laughter, not meaning to smile. This time, she accidentally met Danny's gaze before Stiles held up a handful of fries between them. Danny was unimpressed, giving the boy the cold shoulder while Reagan sent a secret smile his way. She didn't know if his blatant foolishness was from his need to protect or his nervousness being so close to the red-headed love of his life. A mixture, she suspected.

"You're Reagan, right?"

Reagan turned to Allison, all smiles and heart eyes next to her brother. "Yeah. Scott's sister. We're in the same English class."

"Lydia and Danny've told me a lot about you." She grinned. Some at the table rolled their eyes, others tensed, and Danny and Reagan shared a blushing glance. Allison's smile faltered just a bit, clearly having not been told everything. She guiltily looked to Danny, hoping she hadn't just revealed a secret crush or something.

" _Oh_." Was the blonde's only reply. It was a loaded response on tone alone. "They have?" Neither of the two teens in question meeting her gaze. Reagan felt a bit of anger swell at that, feeling as if no good could come from those two points of view. Allison nodded and smiled politely not pressing the issue in fear it would make her uncomfortable but it seems to already have.

"So I hear they're saying it's some kind of animal attack...probably a cougar?" Danny was quick to steer the topic of conversation away, unapologetically cutting off Harrison who was most likely about to say something stupid to upset Reagan. He just loved to get a rise out of her.

"I heard mountain lion."

"A cougar _is_ a mountain lion." Lydia corrected her boyfriend. Reagan began to count in her mind how long it would take her to play dumb in order to make her boyfriend feel smarter. It wasn't long under his suspicious gaze. "Isn't it?" Lydia asked coyly. Reagan rolled her eyes and turned away to cover her bitter smile.

At the top of their classes without fail, Lydia Martin was secretly brilliant. But as she learned in middle school, brilliant didn't get boys. Reagan had once thought the two good friends but now she felt a special hate in her heart every time she had to watch Lydia tilt her head, pout her lips and twirled her hair pretending to be agonizing over an answer she already knew for no other reason than to make those around her feel smarter. It was especially insulting to students like Reagan, who worked her ass off every day only to continuously be just out of reach of the year's top three GPAs and outshined by the girl who seemed surprised every time she got a perfect score and placed it down to luck. She looked to Jackson, wondering if the super-competitive captain knew that he was number six because his girlfriend was secretly number one.

"Who cares?" The lacrosse captain shrugged.

Cursing the group under her breath she rested her cheek on her hand, and let her hair curtain her face as she closed her eyes. She didn't care about the conspiracy theories or "might have been"s. All she cared about was trying to get enough sleep not to fall out of her chair next class. And for a good few minutes, she was able to be lulled by the talking around her, even drowning out the video Stiles was playing.

At least until Scott's knee nudged hers. Her head shot up at the shocked announcement he knew the bus driver. Stiles and Reagan shared a secret look of trepidation. It was becoming a bit worrying just how much Scott might have been connected to this. He had, after all, nearly gone for her throat not that long ago. Her initial shock and clumsiness might have resulted in her own death had Stiles not been there to snap him out of it.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" Lydia was the first to break the tense silence after the revelation. "Like, oh, where are we going tomorrow night!?" She gleefully turned towards her brother and Allison. "You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

"Um,-" Allison cleared her throat from the bite she had nearly choked on. She clearly wasn't expecting to air their plans out in public so suddenly. "We were thinking of what we were gonna do."

"Watch, and learn," Reagan whispered to Stiles with a smirk.

And they did, observing the head bitch insert herself into the weaker couples date, dragging the alpha male in with her. No one other than Lydia looked quite happy about the "hang out". Her brother was a bit slower on the uptake but Stiles couldn't help but run his hand over his face and try desperately to avert his eyes.

Reagan herself was enjoying watching the implosion, silently welcoming her brother into the battlefield that was high school dating. The strong offense was always a must, but defense against intruders was as equally as important. So she sat back and let her brother "let live, and let learn" as he so dimly asked Allison what she thought. The new girl wouldn't dare rock the boat with her new friends and so naively responded with the death sentence of, "Sounds like fun."

"Know what else sounds _fun?_ "Jackson grinned manically. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork."

"Well then, who are we to stop you?" Reagan smiled politely. Stiles kicked her leg under the table knowing she tended to be snarky when she was tired, and judging by her near untouched food, cranky from hunger too.

"How about bowling? You _love_ to bowl!" Lydia nearly begged.

Scott looked at his sister and best friend with wide eyes to help. Stiles crammed Reagan's fries in his mouth, forgetting they had gone cold. His face twisted into a grimace at the wet cardboard taste that greeted him, his own punishment for his cowardliness. Reagan was a little braver, unable to refuse the puppy dog eyes he sent her, the ones he seemed to pull out for just her and their mom.

She tried to interject. "Bowling's a little loud don't you-"

"How do you know we're not actual competition?" Allison challenged Jackson's rebuttal. "You can bowl right?" She asked Scott.

His smile was closer to a cringe. No, he couldn't. "Sort of…. Yes. In fact, I'm a great bowler." No, he wasn't.

His sister and friend looked at him like he was nuts, the memory of Stile's 8th birthday party unforgettable. He had busted open his chin falling on the floor as he rolled his ball, his fingers not releasing in time. Stiles scratched his own chin in sympathy.

And just like that it was decided, the time and place easily decided by Lydia, the challenge to prove himself extended. The poor boy had pretty much walked onto a landmine. Just a matter of time before it blew up in his face.

Reagan was the first of the table to flee at the sound of the bell. Outside the cafeteria doors, she pulled her US history textbook from her bag just in time to wack her brother with it. Scott's face opened in pain but he didn't say a word, too distracted by his impending humiliation.

"You're a terrible bowler!" Stiles said what they all knew.

" _I know!_ " Scott's eyes scrunched up as he recoiled in anguish. "I'm such an idiot."

"God, it was like watching a car wreck." Reagan led them down the stairs to their lockers.

"Jesus, I mean, first, it turned into a group date thing and then out of nowhere comes that phrase."

" _'Hang out'_?" Scott was equally puzzled but the sudden uncertainty regarding the night. Was it still a date or something else? Was he supposed to treat it like a date? Were there new rules to this not-date?

"You don't hang out with hot girls, okay? It's like death! Once you're hanging out you might as well be her gay best friend. Case in point: _this one._ " Stiles's thumb was flung at Reagan's direction, still believing part of their demise was the fact they were far too friendly through their romantic relationship. "You and Danny can start hanging out."

"How is this happening? I either killed a guy or I didn't.-" Reagan let her brother vent as they continued through the school, ignoring the both of them as she flipped through pages of her textbook.

"I don't think Danny likes me very much. Did you say something to him?" His question was ignored by the girl with her head in the book. She was too tired and too busy prepping for her next quiz to be the cheerleader they needed.

"-I ask Allison out on a date, and now we're hanging out."

"Am I not attractive to gay guys?"

"I make first line, and the team captain wants to destroy me, and now… now I'm late for work!" He groaned in irritation as he checked his phone. His anxious pace speeding up to a full sprint as he headed for his bike. Hopefully, he'd remember to leave on time in order to get back before his free period ended.

"Wait, Scott, you didn't- am I attractive to gay guys?!" Stiles called throughout the hall. But Scott was already gone. "You didn't answer my question." The boy turned towards Reagan.

She pulled her head from the book she was scanning, stopping briefly to give him an inspecting overview as she opened the door to her class. He probably assumed she'd missed the rude example he'd made of her. She didn't. "No. You're way too needy and you don't dress well enough to be the attention starved diva you want to be." She slipped inside, staring at him through the center window. " _Case in point…_ " She tapped on the glass, pointing behind him as she threw his own words back at him.

Stiles turned as the door shut, meeting the unwavering stares of the hall full of students. His lips pursed in reluctant admiration "Well played, Rae." His face fell as he looked down at his clothes. "Wait, what's wrong with the way I dress?"

* * *

Melissa McCall positively beamed when she spotted her children later that night with what she could only pray was a hot meal in their hands.

"Are my beautiful, talented, wonderful children actually bringing me dinner?" Her stomach growled painfully as it was teased with the scent of swiss-chicken, peas, and potatoes. She opened the bag greedily, warming her hands on the still warm container.

"Reagan cooked it." Scott was quick to give credit.

His sister wrinkled her nose and flashed a tight smile. "Hmm, _yeah_ -" She stressed. "-but it was your idea." Her voice rose an octave in feigned bashfulness as she distanced herself from the plan he had created. Her coy sabotage ended with a wince as Scott kicked her under the desk. _Why was it always the same spot?_ She'd only agreed to partake in these shenanigans to prove once more she was almost always right.

"Thought you wouldn't mind skipping the cafeteria tonight."

"You are the most thoughtful, loving-" Their mother's smile pinched into a sneer. "-most _conniving_ little con artist ever." Scott's smile dropped while Reagan's grew. She was trying her hardest not to laugh in his face. Her mother and she had played this game many times in the years before Reagan got her car. If it didn't work then, it wouldn't work now. And Reagan had tried to tell him as much. "You are _so_ not getting the car tomorrow night."

"Mom!" Scott tried to laugh it off. Reagan leaned her elbows station desk, watching the useless debate. She tapped her fingers against her chin as she silently grinned. The air of ' _I told you so_ ' wafting off her as strong as the dinner they'd brought.

"What? There's a curfew, no car. But I will take this" She plucked the brownie dessert container from his frozen hands, smiling at the extra potatoes Reagan had put in for her. Her eyes widened as she remembered. "And you-" she pointed to her smug daughter. "-aren't off the hook either. I don't want you working tomorrow."

It was Reagan's jaw that dropped while Scott reflected her previously smug smile back at her. They would suffer together apparently.

"Curfew is for a reason. Working alone in a gas station by the woods in the middle of the night is not gonna happen. I'm not letting your body end up on an episode of Dateline or 48 hours!" Melissa scoffed at her daughter's expression of disbelief. "Love you." She blew them a kiss as she took the food back to the lounge.

"Love you too." The two droned in sync. Their equal levels of dismay were clear. Well, that certainly a twist she hadn't been prepared for. Reagan looked at her brother, "Well at least you don't have to humiliate yourself tomorrow night. Small blessings and all that jazz…" Reagan herself had no intention in following through with the request, sure her mother's paranoid driven anger would fade when she came to her senses after eating.

Reagan turned to her brother, realizing he made no move to follow her out, his eyes focused on something further down the fall. "Earth to Scott? You coming?"

"Uh, just, just wait for me a second?" Scott didn't elaborate as he headed down the hall, ignoring his sisters confused wonderings on where he was going.

"Scott?!" She called after him as he turned the corner. She sighed in exasperation and leaned back against the empty nurses' desk. Since Scott had driven them, she couldn't very well leave without him.

In her time waiting, her attention wandered to the woman sitting alone in the floor's waiting area. The teen tried to keep her gaze averted, it was rude to stare, but the little whimpers and hollow moaning behind the redhead woman's handkerchief kept drawing her gaze back. Her heart broke for her but couldn't find it in herself to provide any words of comfort. Her cheerleading and can-do spirit already used up for the day.

Without meaning to, Reagan felt herself slip into another one of her mindless dazes, time feeling as if it slowed around her completely before resuming when her brother crashed into her. Scott panted, out of breath for some reason as he steadied her on her feet and began dragging her out.

It was only when they had to wait for the elevator that he stopped staring at the hall he'd fled from and looked at her. His breath had calmed to open mouth huffs, his frightened expression easing into worry. Not for himself, but rather for her. "Reagan?" He stopped her mid-rambling, not even paying attention to her indignant scoldings.

"What?!" She snapped.

Her brother expression pinched in concern. Seemingly hesitant to say what he clearly wanted to, his open mouth settled first on a deep frown. "You're crying."

Reagan gave her brother an incredulous look. "No, I'm not."

Scott's brown eyes roamed over her face before softening in sympathy. "Rea?"

Reagan blinked, for the first time noticing the uncomfortable moisture on her lashes. She touched her cheek only to feel the warm liquid run down her cheek as she blinked. She seemed even more surprised than Scott, her blue eyes never wavering from the moisture on her fingertips.

"Hey, are you okay?" Whatever he was running from before fell to the bakc of his mind as he focused on his sister. His hand gripped her arm comfortingly, trying to get her to look at him.

A heart-wrenching sob sounded from behind them. Reagan didn't need to search for the source, her eyes falling directly to the red-haired woman now sobbing uncontrollably in the doctor's arms.

The elevator dinged as it opened. "Just… really tired I guess." She blinked away the rest of the tears that threatened to fall as she avoided her brother's concerned gaze. "Come on, I got homework to do." She pushed Scott into the elevator, sparing one last look at the waiting area as the doors closed.

* * *

As usual, the small gas station saw few visitors in the late night hours. A few stragglers needing a late night caffeine fix or a bathroom break and a couple tourists needing a refill on gas as they passed through. Reagan sat at the cash register, flipping through her textbook and finishing homework as her boss watched The Late Show behind her. The small black and white TV older than her.

Hank Creevis was a sweet old man who in truth had probably hired Reagan more for the company than the actual help. Despite his sixty plus years operating the family-owned gas station, he seemed to be in better shape than most men in the Sheriff's department, at least in strength. It was his speed that was the problem. A bad hip and old war injury flaring up in the colder weather had found him chair bound the last few weeks per his doctor and daughter's orders. It was up to Reagan to see that he followed through with it.

"We got another one." Hank spotted the car enter the parking lot through the windows. He could use an excuse to stretch his legs, sitting still oddly enough never having sat well with him. "I'll see to 'em."

"Don't you dare," Reagan warned him, shooting him a watchful pointed finger when he attempted to get up. He hadn't been the only one to spot the black Camero enter the station. "Any idea when they're fixing the machines?" She pulled her flannel shirt on, pulling her hair from the collar.

"Said they're sending someone out this weekend."

"Not soon enough," she mumbled as she braced herself for the cold. A look of displeased recognition crossed her face at the sight of the driver. "I'll be back."

As if sensing the sour turn to her mood, Hank's large white brows shot up in unease at the serious expression on the handsome young man's face. He looked like the kinda trouble he tried to keep his own girls away from. "You sure?" He asked once more, wondering if it was the wisest choice to let her go out to deal with the rather rough looking driver.

The murder in the preserve still weighed heavily on the minds of those who lived along the woods. Fear and doubt were the two most common emotions amongst the town, despite the Sheriff's public assurance it was a tragic case of human vs nature, the most recent attack near the school seemed far too close for comfort. "Maybe it's best if I-" Hank turned his attention back to Reagan, only to see her halfway out the door.

"You worry too much," Reagan called to him. She gave him a reassuring smile over her shoulder. It fell the moment she turned her face. "He's a friend." It wasn't a lie, per se. She wasn't exactly thrilled by the prospect of another encounter herself, but she had grievances and guilt that needed airing.

Hank watched her for a moment longer, not quite sure that made him feel any better. He returned to his television show.

"Credit and debit cards won't work," was her sweet greeting. Derek Hale turned at the familiar yet unexpected voice. If he was surprised to see her, it didn't show. His green eyes scanned her up and down, the black uniform shirt visible from under her loose flannel. A single dark eyebrow rose in curiosity. Reagan shifted under the gaze, turning and pointing to the clear 'out of order' signs above the pay station and the note below it. "Either pay cash or let me run your card inside."

He said nothing as handed her the card, his intent to finish and go clear. That didn't stop Reagan.

Instead of running it in right away, she looked at the numbers on the pump run up. She slapped the small plastic against her palm, her eyes narrowing questioningly at him. "So, you really think he's gonna hurt someone?" She appeared almost insulted at the idea.

The topic change to her brother was clear. Earlier that day, desperate for answers and having no other option, Scott had swallowed his pride and gone to the older werewolf despite Stiles and her protesting the idea. Needless to say, Derek hadn't become the warm encouraging mentor Scott seemed to think he'd be. Instead he was left with the cold truth; that despite his best efforts, there would always be the chance, nay the probability, he would hurt if not kill someone. He had made the offer to help, but the fact he had directly mentioned he would later expect something in return weighed heavily on her mind.

Once more, Derek didn't mince words. "Yes," came his blunt answer.

"Shows how much you know about him." She challenged him. She stepped up to the station pump hitting the metal to make sure the tape on the sign was flat and secure. Her passive aggressive agitation wasn't hard to miss. Derek spared her another glance. "Scott isn't like that." _Not like you,_ was the implication.

His jaw tensed, his hand clenching into a fist as he spied her staring him down out of the corner of his gaze. She eyes narrowed in return, not in annoyance but in something more akin to contemplation.

"Why are you even still here, Derek? Your sister's gone, you've been freed of all charges, so what's keeping you around a town of people who want to kill you?" She doubted it was to mentor some teenager. And if that was the case, she wasn't so sure she wanted her brother taking tips from him, werewolf or not.

"You don't know anything," Derek growled, baring those straight white, currently fangless teeth at her. "I didn't kill her." He snapped. Derek turned on her, for once staring straight at her. Her confidence wavered.

"She went missing. I came to find her! And I did. In pieces, used as bait to draw me in!"

The sudden turn from blunt apathy to the raw emotion he hurled at her made Reagan take a step back. His face was taunt with anger but his eyes seemed almost pained.

"And it obviously worked." She stayed calm. "So if it's a trap, why are you still here? Why are you offering to help my brother?" Her voice grew quiet, curious yet gentle in an attempt to keep some calm in the situation. She didn't need a repeat of the locker room… At the reminder of the incident, a thought struck her and left her mouth unfiltered. "Unless your sister isn't the only one ending up in a grave..."

Seeing his jaw twitch under the strain of his gritted teeth, she came to a startling realization. She was right. "You're really are gonna kill it, whatever killed her, that's why you're still here..."

Derek made no sound nor motion to deny it. A chill ran up her spine as Derek shot her a look. His calm demeanor betraying the fury behind his eyes. She'd always been gifted at reading those…

She had had enough for one visit. She looked back at the screen for his total, jotting it down with a pen on her hand since she had forgotten the pad in her hurry to catch him.

She physically jumped when his large hand pressed against her shoulder. "You should go." His voice was softer, almost cautious, and it made Reagan tense more than his touch. Still, his tone left no room for argument. She tried anyway...

"What?" She looked over her shoulder at him. His attention was focused only on the multiple trucks and SUVs that began to enter the otherwise empty station.

"Go." He pushed this time, sending her back as he continued to look unbothered but alert as the cars converged around him.

Reagan looked at the scene behind her as she walked back. She wasn't afraid of Derek Hale, she was certain of that. She didn't; however, feel the need to question him as she actually followed through with her job.

This time, she didn't linger. She typed in the amount and printed the receipt as fast as she could, blue eyes straying to the window every few seconds in confusion. Beside her, Hank carried on watching his show, none the wiser to the stand off behind him. She thought maybe it was better that way.

She had planed to send Derek Hale off with the intention to call Stiles immediately after. But as soon as she stepped back into that lot, she knew something was amiss.

Her footing slowed before stopping completely. From between the gas pumps, Derek gave her a sly glance out of the corner of his eye as he surveyed the men that surrounded him. The look was clear. Silently, he told her to stay away.

Reagan didn't much care for being told what to do, verbally or not. But she complied, trying to get a read on the situation she had entered. The terse but friendly conversation ended and with it her role as the bystander. A sudden crash and trickling of glass breaking put her back into motion, drawing her feet to action once more.

By no means, could Reagan be considered stupid. Stupidly courageous; however, was a whole nother thing.

"Here's your receipt… and your card." She appeared between the two pumps. The men that began to advance on him quickly retreated, taking a step back and looking to Argent for orders. Reagan feigned innocence as she looked to the broken passenger window now shattered on the ground. She silently handed Derek his card, looking from him to the window. "Need me to call someone?" The way she said it, it was clear it wouldn't be AAA for a window repair. All she had to do was raise her voice and hip or no hip, Hank would be charging out her with his shotgun at the ready for her.

Derek subtly shook his head. Turning to the crowd around them, she feigned ignorance. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" She smiled at the new customers. "We're having a bit of a bug on the machines so you'll have to pay cash or let me run your card inside."

"No." Chris smiled kindly at the familiar girl. "We were just leaving, thank you." The near charming smile of Chris Argent belied his dangerous past time. His short dark blond hair and blue eyes looked nothing like his dark haired, brown eyed daughter. Yet the smile, that smile, was the same. "Drive safe." He directed at Derek.

She waited until he had driven off with the others. The two stood under the harsh fluorescent lights in silence. At least until Reagan's curiosity got the better of her. She broke it with her sudden question, one that had been bothering her since she found out about it. And seeing him walk around his car, she knew now might be the only chance to ask.

"Why did you do it?" He paused, finally caught off guard by the girl. Derek looked at her to elaborate. "Your sister… Say you're telling the truth-" she doubted he wasn't. "-why didn't you just say something? Didn't it get to you? Having them think of you as a murderer?" There was a weight to that word that sat heavy on her tongue. She could only imagine what it felt like attached to someones shoulders.

"Didn't care." His head gave a slight roll of a shake in time with his shoulder shrug.

She didn't quite believe him.

Reagan looked at the oil-stained pavement. Though he gave the impression he could care less, his previous outburst argued otherwise. Reagan couldn't imagine losing Scott in such a way… she never wanted to either.

Hearing the Camaro door pop open she lifted her shame-filled gaze. In a possibly pathetic attempt, she called out to him, swallowing both her pride and the sudden dryness in her throat.

His eyes rolled as he looked back at her, one foot already in the car. But it wasn't another barrage of questions he was expecting. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, prompting her to get it out so he could leave. He had a passenger window to replace.

"I'm sorry." came her soft reply. And she meant it. She really did.

Neither really knew just what exactly she was apologizing for. A bundle of things really. For accusing him of murder, for disturbing his sister's grave, and perhaps for not realizing a bit earlier that he was sincere in his intention to help her brother, ulterior motives aside… She'd seen a taste of Chris Argent and his friends tonight. She didn't want her brother dealing with them alone.

Reagan expected a glare, a sneer, a passive-aggressive comeback that would try to make her feel inferior. She did not expect Derek's silence. He gave a single nod of acceptance before getting in the car and driving off.

Left alone under the buzzing lights, Reagan crossed her arms, feeling less heavy now that she'd made her peace. She suddenly remembered why her mother didn't want her working that night as the wind howled through the trees across the street. The edge of one of the preserve lines, the thick trees weren't even reached by the gas stations lighting. The longer she stared at the darkness, the creepier it got.

She kept her gaze wandering, never settling one place too long as she walked back to the safety of the Food Mart. She almost overlooked it. Turning just short of the doors, Reagan stared at her car. The front left of it sagging lower than the rest.

She crouched down, inspecting the flattened tire that had been fine just hours ago. Her hand gently ran over the rubber, straining to see what could have damaged it with only the light of the store behind her. She expected to find a nail, or perhaps glass that she's run over when driving in. It was neither…

Her blood froze as her splayed fingers ran over three gnarly gashes. In a test, her own hand arched and dug in, mimicking the unnatural claw that had shredded them with intent. Reagan shot up, stumbling as she swiveled to examined the woods around her. Retreating into the well lit store, she locked the door and turned to Hank. "What to do you say we call it early tonight?" She could only hope her heart pounding fear didn't show in the smile she gave him.

Hopefully, Scott wouldn't mind cutting his date a bit short.

* * *

It was just past midnight that Reagan turned off the lights and locked the doors to the small station. Eager to get the smell of motor oil and gasoline off her, Reagan nearly jogged to their mother's car. "Thanks. My tire, uh, went flat. I guess some asshole left glass in the parking-lot." She cleared her throat. "So, how was your date?" Her excited change of topic was genuine as she steered the conversation away from work and subsequently her run-in with Derek. "Go well or-?"

She looked over to see that Scott had still yet to even falter in his beaming smile. "That good?" Reagan laughed. "Even after suffering through watching you bowl?"

Scott kept his recap of the night vague not wanting to tell her just how badly he had sucked not what it was that raised his game...and almost another part of him while they were at it. "And yeah, I guess it was this werewolf sense or, or something." He blushed at the memory.

"Ah! Look at you." She lightly poked his shoulder before singing, "Scotty has a girlfriend. Scotty has a girlfriend!"

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes. "And why are you being so annoying? It's not like she's the first." He mumbled, both knowing that wasn't quite true. He just wasn't expecting her to call him on it.

Reagan let out a snort. "Which do you mean?" A laugh built in her voice. "Cassie, the gold digger who followed you around second grade for your lunch cookies? Or Delilah, that middle school fling that lasted for, like, a week while she copied your homework and pushed you in a mud puddle when it turns out you were getting a C?" Reagan broke into a full laugh at her brother's expense, the unfortunate breakup well documented since it was picture day. "And-and you had to wear my pink rainbow sweater." Reagan's hard night was forgotten in preference for memory of a simpler time. Back when her brother's big crisis was wet clothing and a bad science grade.

Scott was in such a good mood not even the memory of the immortalized yearbook picture could smoother it. "She still kissed me." He defended as he parked on their curb. It was better than most awkward hand holding six grade couples.

"Back then so did Grandma." It was the end of the discussion as they exited the car. Reagan's giggles subsiding into an easy grin.

Walking up the path, Regan hooked her arm around her brother's shoulders, pulling him closer into a lazy side hug, both in support and her exhaustion. "But seriously: I think she's great. Just be careful, okay?" Reagan rested her weight on Scott, her tired legs feeling like lead as they walked up the short steps. "Because if she breaks your heart I will end her." She released him with a firm squeeze of his shoulder, pushing him forward so he could open the door. Scott looked back with a smile, the joking threat seeming completely empty in the moment because he couldn't possibly fathom such a turn. Indeed, the boy was already lovesick.

The house was dark and quiet when they entered, their only greeting the soft jangling of the cat's collars as they rushed away. Their efforts to be quiet were in vain as a pair of high screams sound from upstairs.

_"Stiles, what the hell are you even doing here?"_

"What _am I_ doing?! _God,_ do any of you even play baseball?!" He shrunk under the bat that still loomed above him.

Reagan flipped on the lights as she and Scott entered the room, all sense of urgency gone at the name.

Melissa turned her wide eyes on them, dropping the bat to her side. Her jaw taunt with annoyance at her own near heart attack, she didn't even bother to greet them."Can you _please_ tell your friend to use the front door."

"But we lock the front door." Scott thoughtlessly reminded. "So he wouldn't be able to get in."

"Yeah, exactly!" Melissa looked back and forth at her children and Stiles, all of them sharing a blank look of confusion at the strategy. It still didn't solve how else Stiles was supposed to get in if the door was locked, since clearly, she didn't appreciate the window. Melissa's panic faded, her mind clear as she realized that for all of them to have come into this room they had to have first left it. She spared a second glance at her daughter's jeans and black polo hidden under her flannel. What a strange change in bed attire. Her head cocked to the side. "And, by the way, do any of you care that there's a police-enforced curfew?!"

" **No.** " Blunt and without remorse, they shrugged.

"No? Alright then. Well, you know what?" She threw the bat down next to Stiles, putting up her hands in surrender. "That's about enough parenting for me for one night, so ... goodnight!" Defeated, Melissa retreated back to her warm bed and Netflix queue.

"Good night." They called after her, only slightly guilty for her jump scare.

As soon as she left, Stiles gave a sigh that made both McCalls focus back on him. "My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago. It's the bus driver." Stiles picked at his nails nervously. "They said he succumbed to his wounds."

Reagan pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache already forming at the reminder this was now their lives. Scott seemed lost, looking between the apprehensive teens for an explanation.

"Succumbed?"

"It means he died." Reagan crossed her arms, looking to the floor. Her mind wasn't the only one racing a mile a minute.

Scott felt a fury build deep within his chest. Derek's words repeated in his head, heartless and cruel given the current circumstances. If they were right, and it wasn't him, he had a feeling he knew who did. "Derek." The name was growled by a now inhuman part of him.

Reagan and Stiles both sent him questioning looks, but Scott didn't care to explain. The werewolf darted from the room, his feet thumping against the stairs before Reagan could even make it to the door. Her hands gripped the frame, leaning out with a growl of her own. "Scott!" She tried to call him back without waking their mother. The front door closed before she'd even finished. He was already gone.

"He didn't do it." She was adamant in her declaration.

"What?"

"Derek." She turned back to Stiles, hoping to at least get him to see common sense. "He didn't kill his sister. Why would he kill the bus driver? It just brings more attention to him and Scott." She pushed up the sleeves of her flannel shirt before crossing her arms once more.

"Whoa!" Stiles called a timeout. "Last week we're getting him arrested, now we're on his side?!" Stiles face scrunched in confusion wondering just how little sleep she was getting.

"He told me his sister went missing." She took a seat on the bed next to him, already giving up on chasing Scott. "He came back to find her, but she was already dead. You should have seen the way Allison's father looked at Derek tonight-" Reagan stood up and began to slowly pace in front of him.

"Tonight?"

"-he _knew_ what he was. I'm guessing he also knew what Laura Hale was. I think the hunters killed her, the ones that tried to kill Scott."

"What do you mean, tonight, what tonight?" Stiles sputtered out, very confused.

"Derek was at the gas station tonight." She spared him a glance. "And he sorta stopped by the house before that." She rubbed her hands together, might as well tell him everything.

"Now you're having secret rendezvous with the enemy?!" Stiles scoffed, pulling at his short strands of hair at just how bad idea that was. "Seriously?!"

"They are not secret nor are they _rendezvous_." She nose scrunched, worrying a nail between her teeth.

"With the enemy." He tried to make a point.

"He's not the enemy, Stiles." Her pacing stopped at the end of the room, her eyes wide and hard, leaving no room for further argument as she stared him down. "If he can teach Scott how to control this, how not to kill us, and how to keep him alive and not torn in two: he's our new best friend."

* * *

**※ The Kills - Sour Cherry ※**


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